


Such Great Nothings

by loserkit



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mild Smut, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, One Big Happy Family, Slow Romance, Some Humor, Time Skips, but calzona always has a happy ending, if you read my stories then you know that i like to play with emotions, in which they’re both oblivious idiots, including my own
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserkit/pseuds/loserkit
Summary: She finally got the door handle open and stepped out onto the hot pavement. Turning around and finding Arizona fixating her with a small, fond, smile, she smiled back. "Bye, I guess.""I would rather settle for 'see you later'. We'll meet again, you know. Good people always do."-A/U - Callie was a new intern and Arizona was a resident, both wasting their lives away. They were only two very small people in a very big city. They sway back and forth between Malawi and residencies and cramped apartments, only trying to keep those they meet so young.
Relationships: Arizona Robbins/Callie Torres
Comments: 53
Kudos: 56





	1. SEX AND CONVERSATION

**Author's Note:**

> All characters and canon storylines belong to Shonda and ABC.  
> This one will have a lot of time jumps, because I am a terribly self-indulgent writer and I like writing time jumps way too much. I think updates will be a little slower then it was with my first story, but I'll never leave a story unfinished (I'll try, at least). You are free to go yell at me in my PMs if I go a month without any updates.
> 
> This chapter starts off with M rating, which is probably a bad idea, but I hope you guys can still find it in the search results or something like that. I'll put a warning at the start of every M rated chapter too, in case anyone is uncomfortable with smut. Lastly, the authors notes in the following chapters will be shorter, sorry for this long one.
> 
> Please, enjoy.

In the beginning of the beginning, they were all children.

In the beginning of the beginning, they never knew any better. Young sacks of blood and bones, getting drunk at Joe’s with heartbreak after heartbreak. 

They walk that street to the east of the hospital everyday, without any second thoughts to what they had left behind. 

They started putting on suits and dresses, trying and pretending to grow up. Somewhere along the way, they looked down at a picture they took all drunk, and realised that it was time to stop staying out until three in the morning. 

They started to shed their bright eyes and closed in on the distance between scut and scalpels. On new pictures, one might not even recognise their old familiar smiles, standing in different clothing and different hair. 

  
  


At the end of the end, they all have children of their own. At the end of the end, they are settling down in different suburbs. Cornflower scrubs are lying forgotten in dusty corners, replaced with peeking bits of white hair. 

At the end of the end, meeting was fate, but falling in love is a private kind of delight. 

* * *

**_JUNE 15, 20_ ** **_09_ **

Seattle Grace Mercy West wasn't ever particularly gentle to anyone. People broke hearts, ran from gunmen, and had sex in on-call rooms as people do.

Arizona still worked there, day and night, chasing after surgeries and pursuing these so-called dreams. She was everything an intern was supposed to be.

…

Maybe all that was good was never really meant to stay good. The very same way what was bad didn't ever stay so terribly bad.

People talk about parallel universes a lot. Parallel universes and other lives. No one ever seemed too satisfied with the present.

Callie smoothed out her already smoothed dress. This visit to Seattle was ending tomorrow. She was leaving her best friend tomorrow and going back to her slow life in Miami. What was she waiting for to start living?

Mark ruffled her hair and grinned, spinning her around and putting his hands on her shoulders as they both looked into the mirror. "We're only twenty something, Cal. We've still got the rest of our whole damn lives."

"But I'm freaking out.

"Don't freak out," Mark said, "we can stay up all night if you want to forget about your life for a little bit." He pursed his lips. "Forget about Erica. Forget about your family. Tonight is you, your best friend, and beer."

Callie blinked and her red dress clung to her shamelessly. She wouldn't have wanted it any different. Flimsy, thin, and cheap in that dollar-store way.

Callie smiled at them in the mirror. "Thank you, Mark."

Tonight, they were young.

He shrugged good-naturedly. "If no one takes you home in this, I will."

She laughed, turning around, and punched him softly on the shoulder and didn't answer. She didn't need sex or alcohol or doing stupid things with stupid people in order to have proof of her youth. Her youth was her's, and it counted no matter how she chose to spend it.

The night was thick and the bar was full. The music was loud and inappropriate, and Callie liked it that way. Music turned so fucking loud she couldn't think. Thinking was overrated anyway.

Mark moved in tune with her from all the times they'd danced before and she loved it. The bar was so crowded she couldn't breathe without taking in a mouthful of sweat and booze. It also meant that she could dance like no one was watching in between all the other lost bodies moving to the beat. He spun her around and they both laughed. They'd once ventured into the 'friends with benefits' area, even if that wasn't the case anymore. Callie wasn't his great love story, and Mark, not her's, but he hugged her when no one else would, and she stayed when he had no one to turn to.

Swaying dangerously close to Mark, she grinned up at him as she wiggled her hips. He wiggled his eyebrows back. Just about as she was going to turn around, a hard body collided with her back.

A white button-down shirt and a head of blonde hair scowled when Callie turned around. The woman pushed her hair out of her face and forced a smile, crookedly, bobbing her head as a greeting to the both of them.

"Sorry. My bad."

"It's okay," Callie grinned, still caught up in the music, not minding the half-hearted apology.

The woman saluted them both, still wearing that crooked smile, like she just didn't have enough energy in her to pull the other corner of her mouth up too. "Have a nice night."

"You too!"

The woman nodded and stuffed her hands into her pant pockets, lowering her head and pushing back through the sweaty bodies. And in just another moment, the bunch of faceless people jumping and swaying went back to being blank and unjudgmental.

Swivelling around, Mark wiggled his eyebrows again. Callie rolled her eyes at him, getting exactly what he was meaning.

"To early, Mark."

He deflated a little. "It's always too early for you. It will always be too early until you actually go out and find another person to love, Callie."

She made a face. "I just don't know how to yet. I'm tired, you know?"

"I get that." He said after a long pause as he took her hand and spun her around again. "Then all we'll do is dance tonight."

"We'll dance tonight."

Callie didn't believe in best friends for a long time, not when she was in grade school, not when she was in high school. All of the books and movies of groups of friends beating the crap out of life were bullshit to her. No one stuck out with anyone like that. This path everyone walked was each for themselves. She never thought that this particular man-whore could be the exception that made her have a little faith again, but he was, and she couldn't be more grateful.

The speakers changed songs, and Callie turned around to Mark. "Something to drink?" Her voice was nearing on shouting over the blaring song, but she liked the rawness in her throat.

"Sure," he answered, looping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing the both of them through the crowd.

Everyone got a bone to pick, and everyone had a person to love. Callie sat down on a stool and she was the person out of place of this building oozing of booze and adultery. Mark had gone since a few minutes to hit on a group of girls. On which one, she didn't know, maybe the whole damn gang of them. It wouldn't have surprised her.

She sighed.

She wandered pointlessly around the slick floors and then out the jingling front doors. The night air wasn't any less stuffy then the air inside the bar, but it was lighter. She crinkled her nose when she smelled smoke in the air, but she guessed it shouldn't have surprised her. This was the alley next to a bar, after all. Still, she coughed quietly when another bout of breeze brought another bout of smoke.

"I can put out this smoke if you want. I wouldn't want you suffocating out here."

Callie jumped a little, spinning around. The blonde woman nodded at her, still wearing that tired smile. She looked better in the streetlights then the fuzzy neon lights of the bar.

It made her look purer. Cleaner. Less sinful.

Her smile matched her tired jeans, worn out and scuffed at the edges. It looked good all the same.

"Jesus. You scared me."

The woman chuckled. "Sorry."

She looked too pretty for Callie to be completely at ease. Her blonde hair was nearing to a state of angelic in the night, but the cigarette between her fingers said completely otherwise.

Callie stood there, not really knowing what to say.

Callie imagined getting her own place thousands of times, and carrying grocery bags to the fridge on a Sunday afternoon and making a good dinner with good music. Callie never wanted great accomplishments or memorable excitement to invade her life. All that she ever wanted that was great was a great love story, and she was already trying to let that one go.

Whatever the air that night was infiltered with, it certainly was a little bizarre, because Callie was really, never, ever, one to reach for those reckless adventures. She didn't know why she didn't back away when Arizona stepped forward.

And when Arizona spoke, it was like a lull into a dangerous trance, but still a trance that she somehow wanted.

The wisps of blonde hair in the woman's face were delicate and golden under the faint light, and a little bit dirty. Callie couldn't take her eyes off her.

Arizona was speaking, and Callie was sure that she was answering, but she wasn't too aware of the directions and the specifics of this conversation. She supposed it was sort of long, because it was enough for her to not flinch away when Arizona stepped forward again and she stood still. She kind of liked the teetering pleasure this brought.

Bits of conversation floated around, getting into her head. _Your name…this bar…Mark…breakups…you're pretty…_

At least, that was until Arizona's breath was so close it dizzied Callie, and it was no longer teetering. Her red dress was as flimsy as ever, and it felt barely even there with Arizona's cold hands on her hips, red and cheap and ready to be ripped off.

"What if it's just tonight?"

Callie swallowed. "Tonight?"

"One night."

Callie swallowed again. She didn't know any better than Arizona's hands on her hips. That she wanted her. "I really need you to stop looking at me like you're about to kiss me," she whispered.

"But what's wrong with that?"

Arizona's eyes sparkled for the first time that night. They escaped the cloud of smoke they perpetually seemed stuck in and called out to Callie. The two of them weren't ever getting older than this particular night of June.

"One night, then," Callie mumbled into the skinny inch of air between them. She almost regretted it as it left her mouth. She didn't do one-night stands. She did relationships and commitment and…one single Mark. She'd only been with, like, four people her whole life. But she'd been walking this fine line between being a good girl and dumb ideas for so long.

The corner of Arizona's mouth flicked upwards and her heart forgot how to beat without throwing itself in a suicidal rage against her ribs.

…

Neon signs flickered above Callie's head, spelling out the name of this motel near a highway. It looked like the god hanging above every young, drunk, and useless American night. It made her a little sad. She looked at Arizona in the driver's seat, one hand out the window and one hand on the steering wheel and Callie could swear that Arizona felt a little sad too. But it was very much alright.

They weren't alone. They could be just a little sad together. In, like, a really sexy way.

The car stopped and they were both out of the car, and Callie's hand was somehow already tangled in Arizona's. They arrived to front of their room door with Callie pinned to it, and Arizona pressed against her like religion in high heels. The fraction of the slice of time before they kiss, Arizona looked at Callie and Callie nodded. She didn't know what she nodded for until Arizona was kissing her and her hands were in Arizona's hair.

They shouldn't have been kissing. Kissing was supposed to be reserved for people in love, in tune, in a relationship. This wasn't anything much of what Callie had ever done before, and _exactly_ what she felt like she should've been doing on a Wednesday night in June. Callie could still taste the smoke on Arizona's breath, and to be honest, she never liked the smell of cigarettes. They made her cough.

She never liked them, not up until now.

The door was fumbled open and the dress was finally ripped from Callie's body. The tinkle of Arizona's belt buckle interrupted the heat and they both giggled at her fumbling hands.

With only a lacy bralette and underwear, Callie sat on the edge of the bed. The giggle that came out of Arizona's mouth didn't belong with the tired smile and tired jeans smoking outside of a bar. Her unbuttoned shirt hung loose and the whiteness of it was a different then that of her skin, and again, Callie had no idea how this woman could look so deadly and angelic at the same time. Arizona chuckled again at her own hands, and Callie smiled too. The moment was catching up to her, and it didn't feel as scary as it did in the car.

"Here," Callie said, scooting closer to the edge, "let me."

Arizona looked surprised, but let Callie pull her in closer by the belt loops. When she'd undone the buckle, Arizona pulled it out in one swift movement, and looking up, Callie smiled at Arizona. She was met with a smile and before she could comment on the uneven dimples that appeared, that smile lowered and brushed against her own. Only for a second, forsaking the almost-kiss and landing instead, open-mouthed and soft, on her jaw.

Callie didn't take her time, and she didn't want Arizona to either. Maybe if this burned enough, Callie could forget that this wasn't something that she'd usually do at all, and that she was currently in a cheap motel with a practical stranger. She would just have to believe that this particular stranger wouldn't burn her too much.

She yelped softly when her back hit the bed. Looking up, Arizona's wicked, greedy, smile looked back, and Callie tried to control the little squirm of her own hips. Metaphorical winds rushed in her ear, and she moaned as Arizona pushed a knee into her thin underwear. Neither of them said much of anything, and there wasn't much dirty talk. They were strangers, and they were fucking. That was all.

…

Arizona's hand was planted next to Callie's head, and she watched her bite her lip as her fingers trailed over her underwear. It seemed as though Callie was determined to look not _so_ easy. Arizona smiled at the warm sight of Callie squeezing her eyes closed and gripping the lapels of her own shirt that was yet to be taken off. The flimsy material of the underwear was barely keeping the heat from seeping out. Arizona traced a finger over it, and smirked when Callie bit down harder on her lip and dug her head into the sheets.

Out of nowhere, she thrusted two fingers into her, and hummed when she finally pushed a small moan out of Callie. And then she thrusted harder, faster, because that small moan seemed to have been her undoing.

She could smell their sweat dripping together and she could smell Callie's sweet shampoo from where her nose nudged against the tender skin under her ear with every push.

"Mm." Arizona was never one to talk during these one-night things. But she couldn't stop this one statement from taking form.

"God. You're so fucking pretty like this."

And it was every bit as true as anything could be. Arizona hooked her fingers and Callie's moans cut off short with small gasps. And lord, she _really was_ fucking pretty this way. With a pink tint spreading all over her chest and cheeks, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth bobbing incoherently. This woman was one of the nicer fucks, Arizona had long decided.

The one moment before, Callie struggled against her eyelids and finally gazed through her lashes, up at Arizona's flushed face. And then came a gentle moan that ended in half a whimper, and Callie's back arched away from the white sheets and into Arizona's front. Pliantly, marvellously, pushing herself into Arizona.

…

To be honest, Callie never planned on being this easy.

She told herself that she could back away any time anyway, but that was before Arizona laid her hands on her and before Callie realised how hard it was to pull away. This was such a bad idea.

"This is my first time doing…" Callie finally said into the dark room, both of them watching the pattern-less ceiling, "this kind of thing, you know."

She heard Arizona stop breathing for a second beside her and embarrassed, she quickly added, "N-No! Not _that_. Uh, I meant, uh… _this_. This one-night kind of thing."

"Oh."

"But, uh, I guess, I mean," Callie made a face to herself and pinched her own leg, "it was nice."

Arizona chuckled at Callie's awkwardness. "My pleasure." She liked this girl. She could almost sense that she was not her usual flimsy kind of girl who were only there for liquor and sex. She thought that they might could've even been friends in another time. She thought that they were nice together.

"I'm just, just, not in a, um, very good place right now."

"Me neither."

"Yeah," Callie breathed.

An old clock that was coloured in the color of yesterday's lunch ticked away the seconds on a nightstand next to their heads. Arizona didn't know why she didn't just up and go like she usually did.

"My best friend has terminal cancer," she suddenly blurted into the dark, "and I'm a fucking doctor, and I can't do _anything_ except to smoke six cigarettes a day and go to bars and have one-night stands." She half-expected the other woman to laugh or stay silent or call her a freak. And then her other half thought that she just might understand.

"I get it," Callie said after a small pause. "Not the one-night stands or the cigarettes. But I broke up with my girlfriend three months ago and my family is pretending I never existed."

"God."

"I'm in medical school."

Arizona managed to smile. "Maybe you can become a genius orthopedic goddess one day that could've can cure his leg."

Callie shifted into a small smile too. "I'll try my best."

"You know, being a good human is so hard. Maybe I can turn into a frog someday. Or a duck. Ducks are cute." Arizona's eyes grew wider and she added, "Or I can be a chicken. I've always like chickens."

Callie nodded in agreement. "Same here." She paused for a moment and then said, "For the record, I think you'd make a great chicken. Or whatever else you'd want to be."

"Thank you for believing in me, Calliope," Arizona said solemnly.

"You're welcome."

"I believe in you the same."

Callie chuckled, "Thanks, I guess." She fidgeted with a bit of sheet between her fingers and asked the ceiling, "Does this make us friends now?"

"Friends who are having sex tonight, but yeah," Arizona shrugged, "I think we're friends now."

"Cool."

"Very cool."

…

"Everyone is healing from things they don't talk about, I guess."

Arizona hummed. "Yeah, I think so." She shook her head and toed the packet of cigarettes by her feet that fell out when they threw her jeans onto the floor. "Everyone is. And I just constantly wonder how they do it."

"How they do it?"

"Because the line between good and bad is so fine, and I'm constantly left wondering if the way I'm fighting for myself," she paused, "rather, the way that I'm _trying_ to fight, is wrong. Like, I don't know, like it shouldn't happen this way. You get that?"

"Like you shouldn't be looking for one-night stands and smoking Marlboros and trying to waste this part of your life away just so the next part will come quicker?" Arizona nodded. Callie shrugged. "Yeah, I get it. Kind of."

"Like I should be doing something better. Like I'm supposed to be someone better after hurting. I don't really know how to hurt properly, I guess."

Callie sat contemplatively for a moment, then said, "It's one of my theories that everything is so constantly on a sort of bend that when you think too hard about it, it doesn't make sense anymore, and you can't really know the good from the bad either." Arizona regarded her with amusement and interest, not egging her to go on, but still listening. "The thing I tell myself when I'm hurting, is that the best way to heal is the way that hurts the least people."

"Deep. I like it."

Callie laughed. "Thanks, I guess."

"So that would mean that all those one-night women would make me a bad person, huh?"

"You want me to be honest or you want me to be nice?"

"We're strangers. We probably never meet again anyway." Arizona chuckled, "Be honest."

"Okay. I think it's a pretty crappy move, using other hearts to heal the pain."

"I thought so. Although it's not always to heal anything. Sometimes, it's for the hell of it. Just to remind myself that I'm still alive, and that sex is good."

"Hm."

"That's worse, isn't it?"

"I don't how else to think of it," Callie said, jutting out her bottom lip slightly. "I like you as a person. You make me feel comfortable when we talk."

"Thanks?"

"Yeah." She paused for another bit, and then lifted one shoulder up high, letting it drop down wildly. She let themselves stay in that weird and comfortable silence. A patter on the windows made them both turn their heads. A couple slashes of rain greeted them in their continuous patter upon the panes.

"His name is Nick," Arizona whispered, "And we moved around our whole childhood to different military bases. He and my brother, they're my best friends."

Callie turned her head back to look at the empty ceiling. "Her name was Erica. She was older and wiser and cold to everyone. But she let me have the gentle side of her and I felt special."

"Are we bad people for doing these kinds of things for only one night?"

"I don't know." Callie bit her lip. "You're nice right now. Everything is too complicated. I don't want to think tonight."

Arizona slowly propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at Callie, her hair spread over the pale pillowcases, a red spot still adorning her neck. "Me neither."

Arizona looked down at Callie, and she wanted to forget about goodbye. And forget about tomorrow. And forget about their muddy pasts gripping at their ankles. There was this peculiar something floating between the hot air between their lips.

…

The blinds of the windows were only half closed, and corners of the moonlight were creeping in. Drawing a string of light across Callie's chest as she closed her eyes and arched back into Arizona, softly gasping. Arizona smiled into her shoulder, tightening her arms around Callie, pressing her front closer into Callie's pliant back.

This fast and furious feeling rushing through the gaps between their skin wouldn't ever slow down. Callie couldn't remember anything that happened before the moment Arizona brushed the underside of her breasts.

Arizona's hand kept trailing down her body, and her own hands grappled to find something. For something to hold onto before Arizona's gently demanding touches sent her into nothingness, with nowhere to come back to. She sat by the edge of the bed, into Arizona's arms, and she couldn't fathom any notion of time. This hotel room was all in existence.

A cold hand crept by her navel.

And goosebumps pushed their way out. Callie dug her nails into the arm around her chest that was holding her firmly against the body behind her. She quietly moaned. She didn't know how the slow fingers circling the skin under her hipbone could arise such intensity.

"Arizona…"

Arizona hummed against the back of her ear.

"Oh god."

Arizona hummed again, finally slipping a finger into the space between her tightly clenched thighs. And then her whole hand, spreading Callie's thighs wider and whispering a " _they stay here_ " into her neck. Callie wasn't sure if she nodded or if she only just arched harder into the body pressed into her. Whatever she did, it must've gotten the message across, because in only a split of a red-hot second, Arizona lost her carefully wound-up control. Two fingers slammed into her, and Callie gave a sharp moan.

And before she could even move, they pulled out and slammed in again. And again. And again. And again. She could only give short, cut-off, choked, groans she felt Arizona's hot hands everywhere on her body. A hot breath against her ear. A hot chest against her back. A hot mouth trailing up her neck.

She could barely breathe.

…

Callie laid, curled around Arizona's side with Arizona's arm around her shoulders and the room was hot enough to not pull the thin sheets up over their bodies. They were gloriously naked in the confines of this lonely room, and staring at the ceiling, it was as much freeing as it was not. Callie watched her own finger trace paths from one freckle to another, and her eyebrows rose barely noticeably.

"What?"

Callie looked away from the bare shoulder to Arizona's eyes looking straight at her. She never knew someone who'd paid so much attention to her. She felt seen, and she didn't know what to do with that. "You have a tattoo."

"I do."

"It's pretty."

Arizona's mouth quirked upwards. "Thanks?"

Callie smiled, still tracing her finger over the edge of the thin lines of black ink that jumped out from the pale skin. "Does it mean something? The daisies?"

"I like to think that it does. But honestly? No."

"No?"

"I got it for the hell of it," Arizona replied, glancing at the petals of two small flowers that inch out from the backside of her shoulder. "I got it because I felt like it."

"That's nice." And Callie really meant it, Arizona could tell. "I think that's a very good reason to get a tattoo."

"I do too."

…

Callie pressed a finger to her closed eyelid and when she opened them, the motel room was the exact same as it was five seconds ago. A steady unchanging pace of the time ticking by, and this was the safest she had felt in months. She was somewhere very far away then what she was used to and she loved it.

She softly kissed Arizona's collarbone as she laid half on top of her, an arm slung across her waist and her face buried in her neck in a way that every time she breathed, a small lock of blonde hair would flutter. This was too intimate for a one-night stand, and Callie had been staring at the irregular fluttering of the tip of that piece of hair for the past half-hour.

She shifted away from Arizona a little and moved downwards. Arizona's skin tasted like sweat and the room smelled of sex. Callie licked and kissed from Arizona's ribs down to her navel, and she smiled up dorkily at Arizona when she threaded her fingers through her hair. She let Arizona's hand guide her lower, and she kissed the light skin and she felt although she was trying to swallow fire. Her tongue darted out and teased, and only teased more when she heard Arizona's deep groan of approval.

…

"These kinds of mornings feel sort of lonely."

Arizona looked over at Callie, who had her knees hugged up to her chest, gazing out the window of their room at the bare highway and the few shops that littered it.

"I can be lonely with you."

Callie turned her head and smiled. "Thanks."

…

This was sweet.

The sweetness, the lingering sweetness, it was all over Arizona. Clinging to her eyelashes and dripping from her chin, vibrating in the shudders of pleasure of Callie's body underneath her's.

"You can scream if you want," Arizona mumbled into her ear, her hand pressing onto Callie's hand, and their fingers entangled, planted on the sheets next to Callie's head. "Scream my name."

And Callie gave a small cry as Arizona forced her hips down onto her again. Everything was sweat and sex and moans, and Arizona had Callie pinned under her. And her hips were moving of their own accord, as if they are reaching out in an unfurling of desire. Pounding and thrusting.

Arizona moved a hand down, pressing roughly on Callie's clit.

And finally, Callie screamed, flinging herself over the edge.

Arizona barely had the time to smirk before stiffening too.

…

"I know I'm nothing special," Callie said quietly, after a while. "I'm not the prettiest girl there is or the sexiest. I'm twenty-four and I have no idea what to do with my life."

Arizona smiled proudly. "You're in med school. I'm an intern. We compliment each other well." She sat facing the dusty windows side by side with Callie and she said, "I like you this way."

Callie lifted her head up and smiled at Arizona when she heard. "I know I'm nothing special, but I hope you won't forget me."

Arizona cocked her head and smiled back sadly. She'd gone through enough girls since she'd heard from Nick, and she wasn't the best commitment kind of gal, but she didn't forget everyone either. She got what Callie was trying to say. "You shouldn't have to worry," she whispered, and moved closer. Like a routine, Callie put her head on her shoulder and Arizona passed her arm around her waist.

"But I think you will. You will always meet people. Funnier, prettier, calmer people who have a stable future and a good temper. And you'll forget all about me, and it's not that I want so desperately to be something great or remarkable… I just want you to remember me the way I'll remember you."

Callie turned her head slightly into Arizona's shoulder. She had no idea what just came out of her mouth. To her one-night-stand-now-kind-of friend, no less. But Arizona seemed to think differently, as she felt her smile into her hair.

"I think I'll remember you alright."

…

The plastic of the alarm clocking on the night stands was yellowing. It read eight o'clock.

The fact that Arizona was standing here and saying goodbye to Callie meant that she was already a better person.

"Come on," she said, "I can drive you home." And seeing the carefully incredulous look on Callie's face, she chuckled. "I mean, we're kind of friends."

Callie pursed her lips, clasping her bra. "Yeah. I think we could've even been very good friends. In another life. Or something."

 _I think we could've been very important to each other, in another life_ , Arizona thought. _I think our bodies and souls already know each other. From another life._

She smiled. "Probably."

"Mhm."

Arizona watched Callie pull on her dress that laid previously in a crumpled mess on the floor. She had never had this bittersweet taste on her tongue before. This was so new. She looked down at her fingers and she was almost certain that they were melting into silver.

She was always so terribly sad, all the time, lately. But in the moment where Callie struggled with the zipper of her dress that was stretched in places it shouldn't have been from where Arizona ripped it off, she was feeling closer to okay in all her terrible normality. She moved forward, spinning Callie around slowly and zipped her dress up and stood nearer to her then she should have.

Arizona was sure that she was further away from tumbling into tears.

Walking down the dim hallways of the motel, Callie spoke up first. "This is weird."

"Kinda."

Getting into Arizona's small cramped car, she turned on the stereo and a pop song with too much swearing buzzes through the front seats. Arizona turned her keys in the ignition and asked, "Where to? Hotel?"

"I'm staying with a friend, actually."

"Okay."

Through the eerily quiet streets after Callie gave Arizona Mark's address, Arizona asked her again, "We'll stay in touch?"

And they both know what that really meant. It meant that they were friends that liked each other enough, but who won't keep in touch the way they meant to. They would exchange a few texts and emails and be friends on social media, and they will fade into nothingness, and they will barely remember each other's existence altogether in a few years.

"Yeah, of course," Callie replied. "Because we're friends."

They do not get to keep those they meet this young. Too young. Too dumb. Too oblivious on all these tiring logistics of trying to live properly.

"You were right," Arizona laughed as she stopped at a red light and glanced at Callie. "This is weird."

"I'm always right."

"Mhm."

"I _am_ ," Callie said indignantly, with a small smile.

"I mean, I _do_ consider you my friend now."

"Except that we had sex."

"So…part-time lovers," Arizona said, smirking and shifting gears. "Part-time lovers and full-time friends."

Callie laughed, thinking of Mark. And then she stopped thinking about him because Arizona passed a hand through her hair, pushing it back, and coincidentally, Callie found it incredibly hot.

"I hope your friend gets better. Or that he'll find his peace soon."

Arizona nodded at Callie's words, turning around a corner. "And I hope you'll find someone or something or someplace…or whatever else that makes you happy."

The air conditioning of the car was broken, and it was stuffy. The front windows were down, and the wind chased the tips of their hair. All Callie knew that this moment was serene and that this moment wasn't theirs's to keep.

That violet stain on the edge of her vinyl seat was mocking her, Callie was sure of it. Mocking all her uncertain aspirations and messy feelings.

The car skittered to a stop by the pavement, Arizona giving her a small smile. "Here we are."

"Here we are."

And for a fraction of a second, Callie wishes that this was anything a bit more then only a temporary style of out of reach.

Arizona kept at least four pairs of earbuds tangled in one gigantic knot in the glove box that did not have a door that remained closed. Callie's cheap dress was weirdly angled off the small of her back from where it was ripped from her the night before.

Arizona blew a strand of hair from her eyes and Callie fumbled with the door handle.

She thought that they _might_ just could have been a good fit for each other.

She finally got the door handle open and stepped out onto the hot pavement. Turning around and finding Arizona fixating her with a small, fond, smile, she smiled back. "Bye, I guess."

"I would rather settle for 'see you later'. We'll meet again, you know. Good people always do."

Callie chuckled. "See you later then."

"See you," Arizona replied, still smiling. It took her two tries to start up the car without messing up the movement into first gear. Callie saw her peering into the rear-view mirror, and she waved.

And then, like nothing had ever derailed from the monotonous rhythm of their lives, Arizona drove off, and finally was nothing more then a small rumble at the end of the road. She turned the corner and Callie sighed, smoothing out her dress.

It was like a fever dream.

And it was when Callie realised nothing could ever go back. This wasn't some transition period, always still waiting for something more exciting, something more interesting, something _more_.

Her life was happening. Her life was now. She just wasn't ready to live it, she just didn't know how to. Day in, day out, she was just an ordinary girl who never knew when to stop giving.


	2. SHOT OF SPACE

_"People never notice anything."_

_— J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye_

* * *

_**JANUARY 6, 2010** _

Callie was at her desk on a very sunny afternoon when she thought of Arizona again.

It really was a nice night.

She considered Arizona a friend, even though they didn’t keep in touch like they promised they would. She was pretty sure that she probably cared about Arizona more then she cared about her. It was her only one-night stand, after all. It was never her kind to go out and wake up beside a stranger.

Callie had given a lot people a little too much of herself. And now, she was running around with only half of herself, grasping at comfort with thin hands, hoping that not one more person would walk away, but never saying it out loud.

She didn’t want to admit that she was part of her own destruction for a long time. She only did what she thought would make everyone else happier. She tried her best, she really did.

It didn’t work out sometimes, and it hurt sometimes, but she just told herself, nothing was easy in life anyway, right?

She drank her coffee and passed her exams. She went out with friends and she made bad jokes. But she decided to stay away from falling for love again. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a relationship, she just didn’t want a relationship where anyone would do.

Medical school was flying by so fast. She didn’t know if she was happy about that or not. It was what everyone wanted of the last bits of school life, wasn’t it? They howled about the white nights and stacks of papers, but when they really stepped away from that grey building for the last time, there was always that horrible feeling of emptiness.

Anatomy labs, the stench of cleaning alcohol and beef jerky, weird medical words filtering into her vocabulary…this wasn’t the most romantic version of a university life, but it was her’s. These last months, she had the impression that all she did was fill charts and administrative crap for graduation. She didn’t hate it. She just never knew that these years would be so short.

She had all this future waiting for her now.

Callie was almost sure she would miss it. Cristina too, studying alongside her, swinging in tequila, even if she complained too much and partied irresponsibly…Callie was sure that she would learn to miss these busy years eventually.

Maybe living in everyone else’s judgements of her should count as a disrespect to herself.

Eloquently said, she was growing for herself and no one else.

Honestly said, she was so fucking terrified of getting hurt, but she still wanted to love.

…

Arizona had relationships now. She worked to get rid of the bad habit of having such an impressive line of one-night stands. She tried to be mature. She tried to snap at interns less.

Seattle rained a lot still. The only out of ordinary thing that happened was Mark Sloan getting a job at Seattle Grace. She remembered him. She had saw how he danced with Callie in the bar months ago. But he was in plastics and she was in pediatrics, so they were polite co-workers, and it stopped there.

Apart from that, life went on.

She went on dates with girls who had too much lipstick on. But none of them felt worthy or much of the same thing that she heard people sing out and write movies of. Arizona committed, and Arizona was really trying to do the right, mature, thing. She told girls she loved them after two rounds of sex and five shots. She let herself be caught up in their dramatic lives, and she accepted it. She met their parents and then she broke up with them over silly things. 

She often wondered if this was all that love could look like.

Maybe this was really all there was.

Sometimes, she relapsed and went to a bar to pick up a one-night stand again. And then the morning after, she would smoke a cigarette and feel the sticky guilt all over.

The only time she crashed downwards and didn’t give a shit was the night she got the call that told her Nick had passed away. She didn’t remember much of anything about that night except for a weight on her head and a numbness on her hands. And vodka.

Arizona didn’t even like vodka.

But now, it had been so long since she had felt the urge to go out and do something that television shows idolize, just to convince herself that she was at least in some dimension, living out a life worth remembering.

It was just that one day after her intern exam, she had settled down and begun taking herself seriously. Almost as if out of nowhere.

Not with someone, no, that wasn’t the only way to settle down. She would be nice and busy with her residency, and although she guessed she were a little harsh and shark-like at times, she was excelling. She made friends, Teddy and some sort of weird love-hate relationship with her so-called mentor, Doctor Herman. At least, that was what she was supposed to call her teacher, by her orders. Usually, she called her Nicole and earned a couple glares.

And as she once promised in a lonely motel room, she hadn’t forgotten Callie. She really loved the conversations they’d had that night, and she really liked the ‘Arizona’ she had become after that night.

To be honest, Arizona couldn’t remember half the things they had talked about, but she remembered that it was nice. _Really_ nice.

And she loved that one night so much, even though she’d long lost the exactitude of Callie’s face in her memories. She couldn’t remember which shade of brown Callie’s eyes were, even though she’d spent hours that night looking into them and whispering words never to be listened to again. But she remembered that Callie liked to chew her cheek when she was thinking and that she had nice hands. And the way Callie’s heart seemed to spill over her ribcage, in such deafening contrast to her own. It reached out to anyone who didn’t look like they had nearly enough courage to let their own chests open up and spill over the same way.

A shame they didn’t stay so much in touch.

But oh well, all the best to her.

…

“Arizona?”

“Yeah, that chick you went home with back when you were about to leave Seattle. She works with me now.”

Callie smiled. “Oh yeah. That was a nice night.”

“A nice night?” Mark and Cristina both raised their eyebrows simultaneously, making Callie widen her eyes and chuckle.

“Yeah. A nice night. And I’m sure she’s a very good doctor.”

“Okay…” Cristina drawled, looking at Mark. Mark looked back at her, performing some sort of telepathic message that made Callie feel very judged.

“What?”

Mark shrugged, looking back at her. “Nothing. You just don’t really do casual and one-nighters. We were both surprised when we learnt, that’s all.”

“Exactly,” Cristina said, “And that’s good. You’re better than us. We just, I don’t know, want you to be okay. That’s all.”

Callie surveyed the both of them incredulously. “Oh my god.” She giggled. “Are you two getting all mushy on me?”

_“No!” “Hell nah!”_

Callie laughed at Mark and Cristina’s offended expressions, and hopped off the couch, sauntering back to the coffee machine, mug in her hands. “It’s fine. It’s cute. Sweet.” She chuckled to herself as the walls of the kitchen blocked out their muffled protests and took out the bag of coffee beans on her tip toes.

She poured the beans into the grinder and turned the handle absentmindedly.

Arizona was only a blurry face, even now that Callie was back in Seattle. She would be lying if she said she didn’t think about Arizona from time to time, because, really, it _was_ a hell of a good night. She’d had, like, only two one-nighters her whole life after all. Arizona wasn’t very hard to remember, and she didn’t expect the same from Arizona, and it was okay. She couldn’t remember Arizona’s voice, but she could hear the words they’d shared in the early hours of the shy light creeping up from the horizons.

Callie poured the coffee powder into the filter and heated the water.

Arizona had blue eyes. She couldn’t remember their shade or what they could remind her of, but she knew they were blue. She had blonde hair, and they were shorter than Callie’s. A blurry face with a way of looking at Callie that made her feel special. It made Callie feel like the only one alive. It made Callie feel like she _mattered._

Callie flung the wet filter into the trash can and stepped back into the living room.

She had to be graduating med school in two weeks. She needed to study and cram and go out drinking.

…

Cristina stared long and hard at the “Seattle Grace Mercy West.”

“We’re going to get in,” Callie murmured, “We’ve _got_ to get in.”

The march rain peltered the window and the two girls in their cramped apartment refreshed their pages incessantly.

The screen lit up.

And terribly loud screams filled the small room.

Well, Seattle Grace Mercy West was waiting for them now.

July was only four months away.

…

Flying caps, crisp certificates, and shouting. Callie and Cristina graduated from medical school on a hot and slightly cloudy day. The buzzy taste of champagne stayed in on their tongues for days on end.

Terrible first dates, ramen for dinner and breakfast at two in the morning. The summer after graduation was as messy as a summer can be.

“Do you think it will always be this rush of todays and tomorrows?”

Callie thought for a moment. Cristina looked at the ceiling, hungry. “I don’t think so. I think it’ll calm down one day. I hope so.”

“One day,” Cristina continued, “Very far away.”

“Yup.”

Between handling administrative crap and stressing for the intern mixer, Callie squeezed out the thin courage to go out on a couple dates. Not very bad, not very special.

Except for one guy who had spilled his red wine down her shirt. He wasn’t very nice.

These days were not very good, but they were not terrible. Between the phone calls and stress and falling hair, they had game nights and stupid movie reruns, drowning in tequila. From time to time, she’d get frustrated and stay in for a whole day and throw a pillow at the locked bedroom door when Cristina came knocking. She thought that being young would be many things, crazy nights out and windows down, rolling on the freeway. She underestimated med school.

There were many times she doubted she’d hold out for another six years of residency.

And then either Cristina or Mark would conk her on the head and tell her to brighten up and get her crap together.

They kept moving forward. These days flowing by do not wait for anyone.


	3. SEASON OF MONSTERS

**_JULY 12, 2010_ **

It wasn’t even past eight, but the small get-together was filling itself.

Arizona stood behind the surgeon showing the new interns around and stared at a terribly familiar head of dark hair from the other side of the sparkling champagne glasses.

Things never tend to go the way they were supposed to.

…

Through the busy preparations and restless nights, Callie and Cristina ended up in a small basement of a building in Seattle. Mark said that the greatest thing about it was that they were right down the street from him, and Cristina replied that it was the very worst thing about it.

Callie found their bickering funny.

That night, they got dressed in pretty skirts and leather jackets for the intern mixer and got into Mark’s expensive-looking-I’m-a-plastic-surgeon-convertible. In between her two friends’ non-stop jabbing and songs with incomprehensible rap on the radio, they pulled up to the parking lot where Mark clapped her on the back and scurried away because he saw Addison somewhere.

McSteamy chasing after his first girl, Cristina called it, as they crossed the parking lot.

Now in a room with high ceilings and a rubbery alcohol smell, they were following around the chief of surgery himself and a supposed neurosurgeon with scarily nice hair.

“The cafeteria is always open, as is the vending area, open twenty-four seven.”

The interns trudge on behind him, listening to more introductions on elevators and finding their way around the hospital.

Just as Cristina was about to lean over to badmouth even more to Callie, a girl in front of them yawned and looked around. And then as Callie’s eyes grew wider, she somehow managed to skip out a flask from under the sleeve of her jacket and take a quick swig.

“I like her.”

Callie stifled a laugh and nodded at Cristina.

Reaching forward to tap her on the shoulder, Cristina held out her hand. “Hey. You.” As the girl turned around skeptically, Cristina continued, “I’m Yang. Cristina Yang. This is Callie.”

“Grey. Meredith Grey.”

Bobbing her head approvingly, Cristina shook her hand.

Before she could ask for a swig of whatever (hopefully alcoholic) beverage the flask contained, the surgeon before them started talking again. “And these,” he said, brandishing his arm proudly at a group of tired looking people in blue scrubs, “are some of our brightest residents.”

“God, if I end up with eye bags that big, remember to knock me out before anyone sees me,” Cristina whispers into Callie’s ear.

“I don’t think you’ll mind if the price is to cut open a heart.”

Cristina shrugged. “Blondie there looks like she’s having a stroke. They all definitely do _not_ look like they sleep.”

Callie looked over at where Cristina was nodding at, and sure enough, the line of residents behind the neurosurgeon look at the time viciously professional and as frail as an old piece of salmon.

“Blondie’s hot though, by whatever standards you lady-lovers have, probably,” Cristina continued whispering.

“I guess so. But I told you already, relationship and I are not on good—” Callie cut off just as Doctor Shepherd started introducing them.

“This is Doctor Robbins, fourth year resident and newly announced winner of the Carter Madison Grant, the absolute pride of the pediatrics department.”

Derek patted Arizona on the shoulder with a toothy smile.

“Three years in Africa, you’re going to be living out all our dreams, eh? How does that feel, Robbins?”

Arizona smiled humbly; hands clasped behind her back. “Pretty great, Doctor Shepherd. I’m just glad I can do something for children everywhere.”

Callie blinked and recognised those dimples flashing in between crooks of other memories into a lonely motel off the highway.

Callie stared at her.

Africa, huh?

She guessed she’d done well then, must’ve gotten her life back together after that night. Callie did too, after all.

“You good, Torres?”

Callie blinked and wanted to look away. Instead, she continued to let Arizona take up all the space in her eyes and mumbled back to Cristina, “That’s Arizona. That’s the girl I hooked up with last year.”

Cristina gave a low whistle. Callie huffed and subtly pinched her side.

She flinched and brushed her hand away. “Well, at least you got good taste.”

Callie surrendered to a small twitch of her lips. She _did_ have good taste.

“…and that was Doctor Altman. Now let’s move on to the labs on the other side.”

And then their whole night months ago was stored and compressed into two pairs of eyes, meeting again over a crowd of blue scrubs.

Callie’s still heart skipped a beat after all this time.

The group of interns moved forward and Callie followed, snapping her head back forward to follow the rest. For a moment, her legs stayed numb and she stumbled, Cristina catching her arm at time.

She smiled politely at Arizona and nodded barely noticeably with tight lips. Arizona let her eyes flicker downwards for only a second before smiling in that equally mannered way.

Cristina frowned at her friend but said nothing as the chief of surgery continued showing them around.

…

Arizona stood a few feet away from the group of new interns and stared at a terribly familiar head of dark hair from the other side of the sparkling champagne glasses.

Callie stumbled and the curly-haired woman beside her grabbed her arm.

Arizona’s hand twitched unconsciously.

Things really never tend to go the way they were supposed to.

…

A hospital was always big enough for two people to unconsciously hide in.

Arizona put down her juice box.

Five hours into the new interns starting, and the ER was going crazy.

The straw in her mouth felt out of place. The juice streaming past her lips tasted too sweet. Too sweet. So sweet that it tasted of Callie.

She jerked up, grabbing her tray and shoving the contents into a dark green garbage in the corner of the empty cafeteria. Her pager buzzed and she couldn’t tell it was a pager. She was too full of thoughts of Callie. And she wanted it to stop. She felt dirty now. She felt dirty and creepy and like she shouldn’t be allowed to think about Callie in that way when Callie wasn’t there.

The pager on her hip felt more like Callie’s legs wrapped around her. Trembling.

_Buzzing, nothing else, the pager is buzzing._

Tightening with a small cry.

_Buzzing._

Sweaty, soft, forgiving.

_Buzzing._

…

Callie’s eyes were stinging and the strange smell of chlorine had set home in her nostrils after her first forty-eight-hour shift. Mark had to forcibly pry her away from the driver’s seat and stuff her into the back seats with Cristina.

From experience, he knew that the possibilities of them crashing into a streetlamp was high if Callie were to drive.

…

A week into her internship, and Callie was quite positive that Cristina was going to make her ear fall off with her constant grumblings about not being able to see the inside of an OR.

And Arizona…

Well, Arizona was Arizona, which was half a stranger.

She had expected awkwardness or maybe even weird conversations, but then she found out that the surgical schedules absolutely do not give them enough time to be worrying about these things. Callie was running around the hospital the whole day getting patients to sign charts and running labs and taking so many notes her hand was going limp.

She definitely did _not_ have enough brainpower to worry about anyone else.

In fact, the first time she came across Arizona in the hospital, she barely even thought about anything before nodding her head in a half-asleep state and mumbling a low ‘hey’ before continuing to walk towards the lockers.

It was only after she’d changed into street clothes with painfully slow movements that she rewired and remembered the lightly surprised look Arizona had worn in her blue eyes.

Callie scowled to herself.

And then she concentrated on not falling asleep at the wheel the whole way back home.

…

It was almost two months into her internship when Callie did a double-take looking at the surgical board’s emergency c-sections.

“Mark, Mark, Mark, Mark, Mark, Mark—”

“Jesus,” Mark breathed, catching Callie by the shoulders and stilling her pacing, “why are you panicking?”

Callie stared at him and opened her mouth a couple of times.

Mark raised his eyebrows.

“I’m assisting a C-section tonight.”

He lit up and clapped Callie very hard on the back. “That’s great!”

“No! Not great!” She waved her arms at herself, “Me! Never been in an OR before! Assisting?!”

He patted her on the head and Callie slapped his hand away with a glare while he grinned cheekily. “You’ll do great, don’t worry. Who are you with?”

Callie looked away sheepishly. “Addison.”

“And you’re worried?!”

She scowled, “I know I might be overreacting a tiny bit. It’s still my first surgery.”

“Aw.”

“Don’t ‘aw’ me.”

He chuckled and hooked his arm around her shoulders, leading the both of them away from the cafeteria and towards the scrub rooms, going on and on about how it was all going to be just fine.

…

The corridors on this wing of the hospital were always eerily quiet.

Callie was physically incapable to wipe the huge smile off her face.

She’d really got to hold a baby for a few seconds.

That was _privilege_.

The faint shine of streetlights seeped through the thin windows and Callie felt perfectly invincible. Down to the bones, she was drenched in pride and adrenaline. If she tried hard enough, holding her hands out in front of her, she could almost still feel the wet weight of a newborn.

Her fingers brushed, still trembling, over her pager and she itched to call someone to be this happy with.

And it was also at almost two months into her internship that Callie realized she didn’t really have someone she could share it with.

She wanted to call her father and tell him all about the first time she felt so much like a doctor, tell him about his little girl saving another life, but her family was strictly catholic. She wanted to call Cristina and Mark.

But they were doctors and they were surely snoring away in their beds by now.

The light-headed pride she had moments ago washed away pathetically.

Walking along the dim corridor, she sighed and climbed onto a gurney, crossing her legs and leaning back into the cold wall. This loneliness wasn’t in any way poetic, it just sucked.

Still, she smiled to herself as she remembered the delighted look on the father’s face when she came out of the OR to tell him that he had a beautiful baby girl.

…

It was Thursday night and Arizona had done three appendectomies in a row. People would think a Carter Madison should grant her some exciting surgeries, but no, she was still just like any of those other double-edged residents walking around with eye-bags that were too heavy.

Passing by a nurse she nodded, and the nurse managed half a smile. This was the reputation she’d bult for herself here; she was a shark, she worked hard and she didn’t accept error. A type A military raised surgeon that was always alert and ready to go.

She couldn’t let herself feel tired, it simply didn’t exist.

Except that right then, watching a family of three walk out of the hospital doors hand in hand, talking and laughing, she was feeling tired. So damn tired.

She kept wandering around the never-ending corridors, and even when she saw Callie cross-legged on a gurney in the basement, she kept walking. She walked until she was right beside Callie’s gurney, watching her lashes sweep over her cheeks with the gentility of a baby bird. Suddenly, all Arizona wanted was to keep the promise of a friendship with this particular person.

Callie opened her eyes.

Neither of them said anything, but Arizona could see her apprehension.

Arizona was tired.

Arizona knew that Callie was easier to be around then those chattery fellow residents that always had sex in on-call rooms one too many times.

“Can I sit?”

Callie simply nodded.

Arizona wasn’t quite sure how long it was before Callie said, “I feel lonely and tired and I want to go to sleep and never wake up because I’m hungry.”

“That made no sense,” Arizona replied. “But I get it.”

From the corner of her eye, Arizona saw Callie cracking into a small smile.

“I feel lonely.”

Arizona regretted those words as soon as they left her mouth. But she mowed on through the mess in her head. “In moments like this.”

She could see Callie looking up at her from on the bench. She didn’t ask Arizona why they were suddenly talking now, and instead she answered, “I get that too.”

“On days like these. Days where everything is so happy and alright, and it’s like the world’s left me behind.”

“We’re not particularly sad. We’re just not very particularly happy.”

“You get it.”

Arizona could get girls. She could be a shark and completely own her residency. She could go to Africa and she could act like an adult and she could make good pasta.

But she couldn’t remember what surge of ambitious aspiration pushed her to sign up for Carter Madison in the first place. And she couldn’t remember how she got herself so excited to get out of bed in the morning two years ago.

And she supposed that Callie felt that way. She saw Callie fall in love a bit with everything she came across everyday. What a painfully loving life that must be.

They were so young. So pathetic.

“I’ve always been so alone,” Arizona said after a while, “And you have been as well.”

She turned her head the slightest bit and watched Callie’s eyelashes flutter with the crappy air conditioning. “We’d make good friends.”

Unexpectedly, Callie grinned and turned to face her. “We already are, aren’t we? Good friends?”

Arizona blinked.

“Yes, of course we are.”

A pager buzzed and Arizona looked down, grimacing. “Mine.”

“It’s fine.”

Standing up, she only hesitated a little before patting Callie’s shoulder tentatively. “See you around, Calliope.”

It was only after Arizona had hurried off in the direction of the ambulance bay that Callie tore her eyes away from the ends of the hallway and realized that Arizona had just called her by her full name.

…

Days passed and everything stayed in that sort of busy buzz that hospitals were accustomed to. Snow was starting to fall and blanketed their stress into a layer of deaf pressure.

Arizona heard of the deceased mother as she walked out of a bowel resection, and even as she told herself it was thoughtless, she let her feet lead her to the gallery.

The world was coming in by the cracks in the ceramic tiles while surgeries were performed. Beeping and blood and flesh and internal organs not where they were supposed to be, and Arizona knew Callie’s hands were stained red with the life she’d just lost.

There were a few moments that blurred while the chaos raged, while the surgery finished, and the OR emptied. That was Callie’s first main assist.

That was also the first life that leaked away into nothingness right under Callie’s hands.

Arizona leaned against the door of the dim on-call room with her hands stuffed into her pockets, cocking her head at the girl curled into herself on the thin bed. A family was grieving, and tears were being ripped into reality, but she stared at Callie, and this was the best way of knowing they were so very alive. The pain, the rush, the all forms of the present, and god, Callie was just as _spectacularly_ beautiful as ever.

It was her first bad surgery of hundreds more to come.

“Hey.”

Callie made no sign to show that she heard Arizona, but she quieted down.

Arizona sighed and stepped forward to sit on the edge of the rickety bed. Patting Callie’s back gently, she said, “Come on. We’re going for a drive.”

After a bit of silence, she added, “Because we’re friends, Calliope. I’m here for you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was saying to herself or Callie.

…

The blinding lights of the highway busted through the front window now and again, and when she spared the fraction of a second to glance at Callie, she was as so damn great as always.

She knew clearly that cheering Callie up certainly was not her responsibility. She also knew that she _really_ wanted to cheer Callie up.

Arizona stuck her elbow out the car window, leaning against the cold material, and took note of the green sign flashing in reflection.

“You want to stop for something at the seven eleven a few miles down?”

“Sure.”

Arizona nodded and inched into the side lane, sliding off the interstate and in the direction of the neon 7-11 signs. The radio was stuck on the same five channels because she forgot how to add more. A sad love song about sleeping buzzed through the radio and lulled the both of them further into the night.

“And…” Arizona pulled back the parking brake and turned to Callie. “We’re here.”

Callie nodded slightly, pulling her gaze away from the window and down into the hands in her lap.

Arizona sighed. “Calliope. This is only your first bad surgery.” She continued quickly when Callie raised her head, mildly irritated, about to reply, “You’ll have many more to come. And they’ll all suck horribly.” Arizona softened her voice, cocking her head to the side to catch Callie’s eye. “But we’re at a convenience store in the middle of nowhere, and the bad surgeries can’t catch us here, okay?”

She watched Callie bite her lip, almost cracking a smile and look down again. And then raise her head again, saying quietly, “Okay.”

Arizona grinned, hopping out of the car and opening the door on Callie’s side, holding out a hand. “Great!”

Despite herself, Callie shook her head at Arizona’s perky words that only seem to come out at these times, and put her own hand in Arizona’s safe one. “So, uh…let’s go and buy energy drinks so that we get home to bed only to find that we can’t fall asleep at all.”

Arizona raised her eyebrows as she pulled Callie out of the car and beeped it locked. “I didn’t know you had a love for energy drinks too.”

“I don’t. But I know you do. So that’s what we’ll buy.”

Arizona didn’t say anything, but she smiled dopily at Callie as they pushed open the glass door of the convenience store. Some things always remain better unsaid, and Arizona thought maybe the both of them knew that.

She stared at the side of Callie’s face at the end of the candy aisle, clutching icy cans of Monster and Red Bull. She peered at the side of Callie’s face by the freezers filled with ice-cream and fruit popsicles. 

And then all of a sudden all she could think of was doing laundry together and brushing her teeth next to Callie.

Callie’s voice cut through Arizona’s daydream.

“Should I buy the lollipops or the twizzlers?”

“Lollipops. They’re better then twizzlers,” Arizona answered, going back to smiling at Callie. “And I’m the one that’s buying today. My treat.”

“What? No!” Callie quickly protested, shrinking back to the red-eyed intern Arizona had picked up in her car and frowning at her. “I can’t let you do that, I mean, it’s nothing. It’s candy. I can afford that.”

Arizona fixed Callie with a stern look, unable to feel a bit sorry for getting such an intense reaction out of her. She had an inkling that Callie had more history to her little basement habitations, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she said, “Exactly. It’s nothing! Let me do this, Calliope, resident to intern, as a-” Arizona swallowed before continuing, “- _friend_. Like, this is me comforting you, Callie, let me be nice, okay?”

Callie opened her mouth to weakly deny, but Arizona cut her off. “ _Okay?_ ”

“Okay,” Callie grumbled, handing her stuff to Arizona’s outstretched hands. “Thank you.”

“My _pleasure_.”

Callie shook her head, but Arizona saw the small smile she wore. Callie liked the way Arizona spoke to her.

Down into the parking lot again, and they slipped into the stuffy car. The windows rolled down; the sunroof open. It took some unblocking, but they made it open.

“Cheers.”

Arizona gave Callie another crooked grin. The dim light of the car made it look just like the night they met. “Cheers. Here’s to us.”

Callie sighed. She took a swig of a brown can and grimaced. “You’re all I’ve got right now.”

Arizona frowned.

Callie shrugged.

“That’s bullshit,” Arizona answered.

“My family still won’t talk to me. I called them last Christmas and all I got was a very long dial tone.”

“You have your friends. You have Mark. Cristina.”

Callie shrugged again, but chuckled. “Yeah.”

Arizona chuckled too, and said, “Stop drinking that Monster like it’s tequila. You’re going to end up an alcoholic.”

“I’m too broke to be an alcoholic.”

Arizona snorted and cracked open her can too. “Same here.”

Raining on their own parade, these stuffy nights out weren’t particularly good for anyone. But they liked them.

…

Arizona always knew better then this, but she always did it anyways. At least, when it came around to Callie.

Because here Callie was, grown up from the woman she’d encountered almost a year ago in that noisy bar, still to be broken, now, looking so damn pretty in a silky camisole and laughing for the first time in the day. And she was laughing _because of_ Arizona.

Callie’s cheeks seemed always permanently stained pink, as though from a pomegranate, and Arizona already knew she was beautiful, but Callie was a different kind of beauty that redefined the word every next time they got to meet. It was weird.

She couldn’t do this.

But hell, she wanted to.

And then her blood and her skin were boiling.

A cosmic force in a pretty outfit, making sure she sank too deep this time.

Callie’s fingers were grasping onto her shirt, and it would be _so easy_ to just close the tiny bit of reality separating them. So easy. She inhaled; Callie and the hot air inside this car. She exhaled; she was alive.

Callie was no longer just one night in a motel.

Callie paused too.

And then she reached forward with her other hand, grasping the front of Arizona’s already rumpled shirt in her fists like a small child afraid to let go, and kissed her.

…

It was the bad day and the tiring rounds.

At least, that was what Callie told herself as she found herself too close to Arizona all over again, breathing the same air and feeling the heat roll of their skins.

There was no other way to explain it.

The three cups of coffee she’d poured down her throat that day weren’t half as heady as Arizona’s energy-drink-stained lips.

She was running out of breath, suddenly pressing into Arizona, kissing her before she could realise what was happening.

Callie wasn’t disappointed when Arizona’s hands reached for her immediately, pulling her closer, tighter, safer. The car wasn’t big enough to contain the fire slowly igniting.

This was a different kind of alone then basement gurneys after a long day, but it was still a kind of alone that burned.

Arizona reached down behind her and backed the seat up as far as it would go, and Callie, getting the cue, climbed over the console. They both giggled when the horn blared through the empty parking lot, echoing into the empty night.

They had no idea what was happening.

Callie sharply inhaled when Arizona’s hands landed on the small of her back, trapping her in her lap in the best way. Almost maliciously, she leant down and softly nibbled the side of Arizona’s neck, allowing herself a small smile when Arizona released an almost silent growl.

She had no idea what was happening.


	4. DRESSES IN DECEMBER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been snowing for three days straight where i live and i'll try to get more chapters out during the holiday season. if i don't manage to finish writing the fifth before christmas, i wish to all those who celebrate, a merry christmas and the best times coming ahead. hope you all stay safe and stay happy.
> 
> enjoy-

_"_ _'Of course it's possible to love a human being if you don't know them too well."_

_— Charles Bukowski_

* * *

**_OCTOBER 3, 2010_ **

The white noise after these fanatical crazes was always deafening.

In Arizona's car, they panted.

Shakily, on still very unsteady legs, Callie inched off Arizona and into her own seat. With misty eyes, she looked up at Arizona, and Arizona could see every bit of confused and leftover lust in those bogs.

"That…"

Arizona tried to seem more nonchalant than she was. "That was that."

Callie nodded. "And we're…like this. I guess."

"I'm leaving for Africa in two months."

For the second time in the minute, Callie looked stunned. "Just two month?"

Arizona grimaced, "Well, like, eight weeks and a couple of days."

"Then, uh, I guess…" Callie stumbled over her words, and Arizona immediately felt bad about saying it so bluntly. She didn't want it to seem although she wanted to shake Callie off. Finally managing a weak smile, Callie said, "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks."

Callie nodded.

"It means a lot." And it really did, to Arizona at least. She hated feeling this lost. She wanted to tell Callie that she made Arizona smile after these long days, but she held back.

"Should we get going?"

Arizona snapped out of her thoughts. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

…

The way back to the hospital was a blur and Callie could only remember her heart pounding in her ears, each pump of blood reminding her of just how alive she was.

Good things were never made to last.

And bad things weren't either.

The days continued to slither by with sweat and black circles under her eyes. Sometimes, she looked down at a broken leg and all she could hear was Arizona soft voice as she whispered sinful things into her ear that night in the car, gentle but deadly, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

And other times, she would slump into a spare on-call room and all she would see in the darkness behind her closed eyelids was the sparkling look in Arizona's eyes as she'd look straight at her and tell her about all her plans in Africa.

She was proud of Arizona.

Because they were friends.

Who had sex twice, but that was besides the point.

The first real snow that didn't turn into pathetic mush by the sidewalks came in November. That day, Callie was called into the ER, where she stayed for a whole shift, rushing here and there as attendings barked orders. It was crazy and Callie loved it.

It was after she popped in a dislocated shoulder with Doctor Chang squinting on the side that she _really_ felt although the world made sense. As soon as the patient was wheeled away, Callie sprung out of the room and practically skipped to Cristina's side, her eyes wide and her mouth refusing to stop smiling.

"Yang. Yang. Yang, stop talking to Mer for a minute and listen to me be uselessly excited for a dislocated shoulder."

"Go on."

Callie squealed. "I popped in a dislocated shoulder!"

Cristina's expression got less monotone for a second and she cracked smile. "Congratulations. Even if I kinda want to slap you because I _need_ to touch a heart or I'm going to quite literally explode."

"Thank you," Callie sniffed, "I'm so touched."

…

Dragging her feet into the locker room, Arizona felt exhausted and all her limbs were dead weight. She'd just rushed a whole family into the ORs and god, she felt alive.

She pulled on a sweater and smiled, recalling the excited look on Callie's face she saw, all the way on the other side of the ER. If she tried, she could still feel the exhilaration, back when she was only an intern too, back when being able to touch a patient was the best thing in the world.

Outside, a great clap of thunder and Arizona shivered. The Seattle weather wasn't getting any better closer to Christmas. This snow and rain weather were bound to bring in yet another crowd of rigs into the bay.

Shrugging on her bag, she hurried downstairs, into the elevators and to the front doors.

"Callie?"

She shifted backwards and turned, giving Arizona half a grimace. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh," Callie hesitated, "Cristina was being an asshole and drove off in our car when her shift ended. And now it's…snow-raining."

Arizona gave her half a smile. "Well, _I_ have a car."

Into the foggy air they rushed, with the heavy snow and rain obscuring their view to a mere couple feet ahead. Callie gave a high-pitched giggle when Arizona suddenly grabbed her hand, from fright of slipping or a silent gesture for intimacy she didn't know, and she couldn't really care.

Slightly surprised, Arizona glanced at Callie. The Callie she knew didn't really giggle, not in front of her, ever, anyway. That was one of the things she had deemed similar about them. They both liked to appear tougher and rougher at the edges to the people they knew. Regardless, Arizona laughed lightly too. She was glad that Callie giggled with her.

"This was," Arizona said between pants, "was a terrible idea."

Callie yelped as she stepped in a puddle. "And now my shoes are wet."

When they finally got into Arizona's car, they were at the best, terribly humid. They looked at each other liked they were about to kiss.

But they didn't.

Instead, Arizona huffed and turned her head away from Callie, brushing droplets of wet snow off her sweater.

"Um," Callie stuttered, "When were you planning to leave again?"

"January," Arizona answered, "Towards the beginning of January."

"Oh."

Arizona took a breath. "You doing anything for new year's?"

"No, not really."

"I'm having a small together at my place. You should come. You know," she shrugged a little awkwardly, "get to know your fellow interns and residents and stuff."

"I-I-"

"You can bring a friend along if you want. If you're afraid to not know anyone."

"Ok." Callie nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

…

Watching Callie walk into the rickety building, Arizona pulled out her phone and sent her address off to Callie's number. Her fingers hovered above the screen for a couple of seconds, not knowing whether to keep typing or to leave it alone.

Her hands were freezing and she could barely feel the small screen beneath her fingers. With a whoosh, a little bubble of words jumped onto the nearly blank interface.

_"Hey, when's your next day off?"_

_"We can get together again before I leave, if you'd like."_

Was it too demanding? Frowning, Arizona pressed the home button harshly and dialed another number.

"Hey, Teddy?"

She couldn't help but smirk as she heard the familiar voice answer her a little irritably from the other side.

"You have to help me plan a new year's party."

…

"You could have worn something…" Arizona waved her hands at Callie while stopping at a red light. "More _appropriate_ for the freezing snow outside, you know."

Callie stuck out her lip and shrugged. "My dress is great. Admit it."

Arizona rolled her eyes but nodded with a smile. The flowery cloth flowed down Callie's legs and it was although straight out of a Victorian novel. She'd poked fun at Callie at letting her badass façade down, but Callie simply shrugged again and replied with an arrogant little "as long as I like it". Arizona didn't miss the little flash of insecurity that flashed though Callie's eyes and she immediately felt bad. But she didn't what to say, so she continued driving and silently clicked the radio to the channel she'd discovered a few weeks ago that she was sure Callie would like.

"Just don't complain about your hyperthermia when we get out of the car."

Changing lanes, Arizona brought her truck to a final stop on the side of the highway. "Here we are. I can't afford a five-star restaurant, but I can afford a picnic on an old blanket on the side of the highway."

Callie grinned at her, their recent conversation already all forgotten. "Oh my god, this is great. I've always wanted to see what it was like to sit in those tall grass places on the side of the highways!" On an afterthought, she added, "That sounded sarcastic. It wasn't. I actually did want to try this out."

Arizona chuckled and climbed off the car, handing the thick old blanket that was torn in three different places to Callie.

She crossed her arms and leaned back against her car. She squinted her eyes and grinned at Callie a few steps away in her flowing skirt, laughing. She knew she had to join Callie sooner or later, but she just needed two minutes. Two minutes of watching Callie being happy. Two minutes before Callie saw her and got sad and smudged her makeup.

What kind of crazy human wears skirts in the middle of winter anyway?

Surely not Arizona, clad in a sweater, a coat, _and_ a vest.

In any way, she was still believing that they would meet again, in a better time, in a better place than this. In a place where they could love whoever they want to love and do whatever they would fancy doing. They could meet again in their wildest dreams.

Callie looked back at Arizona. She smiled bigger and waved at her, calling her to come over. Arizona grinned back, pushing off the car and kept her hands stuffed inside the pockets of her pants because, _surely_ , if she didn't keep them there, she would grip onto Callie and not let go. Nothing could've lasted forever, but lord, she wanted this moment to.

Walking towards the blinding vermilion and leftover sun, Arizona squinted eyes and could almost make out a pretty silhouette, calling her to come closer. She knew that this was the memory that was bound to follow her around.

"Wine, milady?"

Stopping in front of Callie, Arizona laughed at her holding up the cheapest bottle of wine they found at Walmart and nodded. "Of course."

Callie shook the blanket open and spread it over the wet ground. She took the two plastic cups Arizona held out, filling them, and sat down on the cold ground. They probably shouldn't drink it so full in the cup, but hey, they were already being awfully pretentious with the whole wine thing, so did it really matter if they filled it the whole damn way?

Of course not.

Lone bits of greying snow piled up pathetically in small clumps.

"Urgh," Arizona said, fisting a bit of grass and pulling it out. "It feels like the grass is yellow no matter where we go around here. Even in the middle of winter."

"Better yellow grass then spending another couple thousand every year just to tend your front lawn."

"Like those people in the neighborhoods to the south do?"

Callie laughed. "Hey, that used to be me, you know?" Arizona shrugged, smirking, and Callie shrugged too. "But yeah. Their _lawns_ have a healthier diet then me."

Arizona snorted. "God, I swear that one day, I'm going to leave this town."

"Didn't you spend your entire childhood moving around already?"

"Yep."

"And you still want to move?"

Arizona made a face and looked away from Callie. "I don't really know what to do with all this permanence."

"Good enough reason." Callie nodded and held out her cup for Arizona. "At least Africa is waiting for you. I'm stuck here."

Arizona bumped their cups. "Cheers."

"A toast, Robbins?"

Arizona thought for a moment, and then looked up at the highway rushing by behind her parked car, holding up her solo cup solemnly to the petrol-smelling roads. "To us and our broken futures."

Callie frowned. "Don't say they're broken. Maybe they can be pretty awesome."

"Awesome?"

Callie shrugged sheepishly. "You rub off on me."

Arizona grinned cheekily. "My honour."

She sat there until she couldn't feel her hands anymore and still stole glances at Callie like the night they'd first met. Or like she always did. She knew she fucked things up a lot, a hell of a lot, actually. She wasn't high maintenance; she just didn't want it enough. And now that Callie was sitting beside her, she felt invincible. The reckless, stupid, kind of invincible that comes at twenty-something, as she was sitting with the right person, at the right sunset.

"I feel like I've known you my whole life."

"You can send me a postcard from Africa."

"I will."

None of the painful hungers of the world could touch her now, not when she was staring at the side of Callie's face and holding a red solo cup.

"God, I'm freezing."

Arizona rolled her eyes. "That's what you get for putting on a skirt in December."

"I wanted to feel pretty!"

_You're always pretty._

"Fine, come on, let's continue this thing in my truck."

Callie stuck out her bottom lip, even as her nose was bright pink from the cold. "Five more minutes? It's nice out here. It's cold, but its' nice."

"Urgh." Arizona was certain her hands were going to fall off sometime soon. She couldn't even imagine how cold Callie was, but she couldn't help smiling a little. "Fine. But I'm timing you."

Callie answered her with a huge smile.

If she were to be honest, the ground was bumpy and cold, the grass was hard and spiky, and the cheap wine was really, really, really bad.

It was shit, but they were happy.

…

They bid their goodbyes that night, or rather, very early into the morning under a lamppost, in Arizona's truck. Callie had forced her to stop a block away from her basement, saying that she needed to do her "daily walking". Arizona frowned at her but bit back her questions when she saw Callie's look.

She told her that she would see her at her place in a couple weeks for the party and Callie nodded, closing the car door with a thump and waving with a small smile.

Driving back to her apartment under the traffic lights, Arizona realised that she was turning thirty in three and a half seasons. She hadn't felt although time should've gone this fast.

The world was turning as it always did, slowly, painfully, monotonously. Something felt like it was supposed to happen. Like the night she turned eighteen, the night she turned twenty, the night she started her internship. Like these big blocks of time periods in life were really supposed to magically _make_ something out of her.

She'd grown this old, but she still couldn't name a favourite movie. She couldn't name a favourite song, a favourite book, or a favourite person. She constantly believed that maybe this was all there was to her life, this day-to-day journey of nothing in particular. She would sometimes question the 'why' to all her own blank living.

But she was here after an afternoon with Callie and knowing that Callie had wanted her to drop her off a block away because she was self-conscious about her little basement, and she thought that maybe the rest of her seemingly blank life could be filled with days where she tried to find all the rest her 'favourites' to love. She didn't really need so many favourites to give her days meaning, maybe.

Maybe she could just spend her days noticing new things and having new favourites.

She certainly did have Callie slowly becoming a favourite.

She supposed this was normal between friends.

…

As December clanged to its end, Arizona cleaned her apartment. It was a party multitasking as a 'happy new year's' and a 'goodbye', by Teddy's wishes. That way, she wouldn't have to invite people over twice, so as Teddy said, and to which Arizona responded by saying that she didn't like having people over anyway.

Now, slumped across her couch, Teddy chewed on a celery stick she stole from the big platter and squinted at her suspiciously. "Why would you have a 'get-together' if you don't like inviting people over anyway, huh?"

Arizona stumbled as she walked out of the kitchen, spilling a bit of her water over the rim of her glass and cursing. "I-I don't know. I guess…I just still wanted to have some sort of… _thing_ to feel like this actually is ending."

"Ending?" Teddy sat up. "You _are_ coming back in a couple years, aren't you? You're not going to frolic away into your fancy offers and leave me alone to die single and depressed?"

Arizona rolled her eyes, putting down the glass on the counter a little too hard. " _No._ I'm coming back, Teddy."

"Good. So, ending?"

Arizona stared at the light stain on her shirt for a moment and considered how to word the feeling of have forgotten her heart in someplace else. The feeling of her bones weighing her down into something she definitely did not want to give into.

"You know that wasn't what I meant, come on. I just meant to make my departure a bit more official, you know?"

Teddy laughed and nodded.

Arizona squeezed out a grin, shaking her shoulders. "'Cause I'm fucking great and you all are going to miss me like crazy."

"I mean, I usually want to slap you, but yeah, I guess I actually will."

"Of course you will."

"And Callie?"

Arizona stiffened. "What about her?"

"Wasn't there something going on between the two of you?"

"I mean," Arizona swallowed, "I slept with her once or twice. But I do that with plenty of girls."

Teddy made a face. "Yeah, that's true. But you seemed to actually like her."

"I do. We're friends."

"Geesh. Friends with benefits never work out well, I'm telling you that much."

Arizona laughed. "Well, I'm off to Africa, so there isn't really anything to work out, isn't there?"

Teddy laughed too, nodding and raising her celery like a glass of champagne. "Smart, Robbins." Pulling her face down into seriousness after a bit, she reluctantly added, "But you seem like you were almost close to falling this time."

Arizona looked down at her hands. "I know."

Teddy nodded.

"I'm going to change my shirt."

"Okay."

…

Arizona clanked her beer with Teddy and April in the kitchen, glancing at the living room. Callie had arrived a few minutes ago with the same curly haired woman she saw at the intern mixer. Cristina, Arizona was pretty sure her name was. Another girl was behind them, thin and blonde and seemingly to be very intrigued with both the drinks bar and Doctor Shepherd.

Arizona wiped her hands on her shirt and looked down at herself. Her old torn jeans and her brother's button-up shirt didn't look great together and was two sizes too big. She was nervous all of a sudden and wished that she wouldn't have to face Callie again after those skittery two minutes of showing her around when she first arrived.

The wet night outside wasn't any more forgiving.

She wasted two more hours away, glancing at Callie every five seconds from the other side of the room and occasionally catching her eye. She couldn't help the corner of her mouth pulling down when she saw Callie slamming another bubbly champagne bottom up.

She knew perfectly well that one day, maybe already, maybe in the great faraway future, she would meet someone who will make her world go around in a swirl of whatever made her happiest. And she knew too, that this someone was destined to be light. And she knew, finally, that this someone was often not the one that she could have the privilege of knowing for a long, long time.

At least, that was what she thought of as she watched Callie giggle at something Cristina said to a ginger man, slightly disconcerted.

Arizona watched Callie until Callie swayed around and caught her eye and grinned widely as the people around her crowded around the television and started counting down.

Laughter and noisy conversation swarmed around the small apartment and glitter was on the floor, and Callie laughed an airy laugh, walking to stand next to Arizona. There were already too many people gathered around the television, so they were sadly squeezed out of the crowd, just outside, behind them.

_10-_

Callie looked tantalizing standing there with rosy cheeks and a big smile.

_9-_

People around them buzzed away and she saw Teddy holding the hand of the baseball player she met a few weeks ago.

_8-_

Her champagne-stained lips were bitter as she swiped her tongue along her teeth, her eyes back on Callie, counting down the seconds with everyone else, just as happily.

_7-_

It was fitting, the way Arizona ached a little. She liked starting new things but she was always a little afraid and a lot empty on New Year's Eve. Like she was emotionally attached to the old year, like she wasn't ever quite ready to leave everything behind just yet.

_6-_

Callie nudged her arm, jutting her chin at the television and telling her to count with everyone else.

_5-_

This was a past to their broken futures, and a punctuation mark marking the end of a chapter that still echoed of lonely highways and busy jobs.

_4-_

She was suddenly very calm, and she saw Callie's silent and quick little glance her way, even if she didn't mention it.

_3-_

"We both look lonely and we both look like crap," Callie whispered.

Arizona snickered. "Yeah, but it's alright. I'm having a good time."

_2-_

She had never thought she would actually miss Seattle.

_1-_

It seemed like she will, after all.

_Happy New Year!_

"Calliope," Arizona said, and she was sure she was just about to start saying some very sad things. But before she could manage, Callie passed her hands through her hair and pulled her closer very gently, and kissed her under the dim dirty light of the party.

As fast as it started, it ended, and all Callie did was give her a little grin, friendly as ever.

All the things she thought to said had no way to bubble past her teeth.

…

The party was still buzzing outside the closed door of Arizona's messy bedroom, albeit a little bit quieter. Maybe it was the night getting old.

Arizona leaned against the headboard and Callie sat at the foot, cross-legged and opening a can of coke. After having talked about the best non-smearing mascara and non-polluting cat litter, they fell into a bout of silence.

The coke fizzled over Arizona's unmade bed and the white sheets shone eerily through the slice of moonlight that snuck past the crack in the curtains.

"I have nothing to give right now, Calliope."

Callie didn't look too surprised when Arizona started talking again. "Me neither. You know that."

Arizona nodded. And then she shook her head and didn't look at Callie. She couldn't look at Callie. They both needed to become better people before they could be much of anything together.

Callie was important. But so was her career.

Arizona knew, deep down, that she really could abandon Africa for Callie. Callie was important enough for that. But she couldn't. Not right now. Africa was an opportunity. For Arizona _and_ her career. And it was an opportunity that would make her a better doctor.

And Callie and her weren't much of anything anyway.

"We'd really need a miracle for this to work, you know?"

Callie laughed, "I know."

And maybe, just maybe, when Arizona would come back from Africa, if Callie was still in Seattle, if it was a good day…maybe, _just maybe_ , Arizona would be a little bit worthier to hold Callie's hand. That was what she thought to herself.

"It's kinda sad."

"It really is."

Arizona smiled sadly at the girl sitting at the foot of the bed. She always thought Callie was so pretty, _so pretty_ , when she laughed and when she smiled. When she talked, when she blinked. "It's okay. We'll do fine."

Callie took a sip and nodded. "We will." And that was the truth. Anyone can live just fine without anyone. All those _'I can't live without you'_ sayings were never true.

"You'll find someone good to you. Better than I am to you."

Callie pursed her lips weakly, looking away. "Please. Let's not talk about that. Okay?"

Arizona sighed. "Okay." She motioned for Callie to come closer after a bit, patting her lap. Callie set her can onto the floor by the bed and climbed over the thin cotton sheets, straddling her lap, Arizona's hands coming to wrap around her waist and Callie's arms going around Arizona's neck, like they had done so many times on the first night they met. Arizona closed her eyes and leaned back into the hard headboard. "We can stay like this."

"But this makes it feel like we're actually…something."

Arizona stayed silent and squeezed Callie's hips.

"A-Are we?"

"What?"

" _Anything?_ "

Arizona stayed silent again, and tipped her head forward, her tongue against Callie's neck. She planted kisses along the delicate curve until Callie's breathing hitched and gripped her neck tighter. Her cold fingers couldn't hold this night forever.

Who was Arizona kidding?

What kind of falling or feeling could last for three years in someone's absence?

This wasn't a love song. This was a universe where Arizona was leaving the continent in three days.

Callie wouldn't know that Arizona wanted _so_ to be able to keep her company. Even if it wasn't as anything more then a friend.

Callie wouldn't know that Arizona knew that they were not good enough for each other yet. Arizona had her career in Africa. Callie had her intern year stretched thin. Relationships were not made to only be enjoyed. They both had nothing to give right it that moment.

Callie wouldn't know that Arizona would miss her too.

Callie wouldn't know this was Arizona saying goodbye.

…

The morning after, Callie sighed, she turned her face into her pillow and bit her lip. She could still smell Arizona's shampoo. Bittersweet. Invading.

Callie wasn't going to cry.

She was a grown-up. She didn't cry for someone that wasn't there anymore.

The lights were off and she was alone.

Callie was so scared.

She was so scared that Arizona would come back one day and see her entangling her life with someone else. Scared that Arizona would think that Callie never felt anything this deeply; that Callie never wanted to wait for her. Because that wasn't true, oh, how that was so not true.

_Wait._

This word already didn't belong to them. It shouldn't belong for anyone.

Because people should fight for other people. And people should fight for themselves. At least, that was what she liked to tell herself. That was what she liked to believe.

Waiting was a declination of another stronger, better, verb, and it was a death sentence for Callie's will to keep on living.

Arizona really might come back and see her wasting her life away with someone new. How was Callie supposed to explain that her biggest regret was no one else then Arizona herself?

…

An empty bid to farewell fell through the bittersweet air in the morning, landing in Callie's palm. She clenched her fists and didn't cry.

Arizona wouldn't know that Callie knew it was goodbye, that afternoon.

Arizona wouldn't know that Callie clenched her teeth and still spent the night with her.

…

Arizona left for Africa two days later.


	5. HALF ASLEEP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted this story to show the process of falling in love and growing as a person at the same time, you know? in a "what if we meet but don't definitely fall in love right away but rather learn from each other and become better people as we walk through life together before eventually getting together" kind of way. a...modern-day but old-fashioned love. i'm a sucker for that, i've been wanting to write this for so long.
> 
> sorry for the long author's note, please enjoy both this chapter and the upcoming year!

**_MARCH 12, 2011_ **

It was by her mailbox, in her father’s old tank top and watching a squirrel running across the street that Callie felt light and happy for the first time in three months.

Callie never liked writing or drawing too much, but she had a couple of notebooks lying around her cramped basement. In a small one with a black cover, there was a picture stuck, coming from one of the disposable cameras Arizona had at her new year’s party.

In the picture, she was grinning at the camera and Arizona was grinning at her, both wearing bright pink party hats. They looked dumb.

Callie had stuck the picture there two months ago and left the notebook under a stack of romance novels she no longer read and swore that she would move on.

The sky was alright and the wind was warm, and she was building her own life up, piece by piece.

So many weeks later, the sunlight struggled through the leaves and bounced off car roofs, making pedestrians squint angrily.

Callie had decided she was important today. She was important, and she wasn’t going to chase after people and emotions just to prove her own existence anymore. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a relationship ever again; she just didn’t want a relationship where anyone could do. She couldn’t run back and forth between the Callie she knew and the Callie they knew sometimes. And then eventually that line blurred and she couldn’t tell Callie from Callie from Callie. But she was trying.

Callie looked down at the paper cup in her hand. Black coffee, because it was badass. She looked back up and could almost hear Mark talking beside her. _Walk tall, Torres. Walk tall._

Callie crossed the street as the light turned green. Living in other people’s eyes was tiring, and frankly, a disrespect to her own eyes. She took small steps and could practically hear Cristina scolding her. _It’s okay to like yourself better then other people, Callie. You’re very likeable._

She had decided she was important today.

…

Africa was different in a lot of ways then what Arizona had imagined. For one, it wasn’t completely miserable. Also, she didn’t spend hours sulking over the life she’d left behind.

The only slightly questionable thing she tended to do was drinking too much coffee without her usual double milk and stare out the window of the small NICU on blinding sunny days.

The nurses whispered about how she was very particular about the coffee, freshly ground and no milk, but they didn’t dare raise their voices. One, because Arizona was hard and severe and had an unexpectedly intimidating look in her eyes, and second, she was very damn good at her job and they didn’t have reason to speak up anyway.

…

Six months into her clinic in Africa, and Arizona was staring at the phone again. The other side of the world was only a phone call away, but picking up the phone was far harder then saving babies.

Arizona was in Africa, she felt so far away from her whole life. This was new.

She never used to feel this strange homelessness when she used to move around before.

She heard people talking sometimes and she called people in Seattle once or twice. It was although Callie and her never were. 

They were real, they really did happen, no matter what other people said. And sometimes, the best thing for anything was to be able to have a beginning and an end.

This perpetual sinking into the dark, secretive, silent—this was never enough. Because on particularly quiet nights, she felt although her youth was long left in Callie’s warm hands, and this inevitable fall was seeming to have been made to last forever. 

They were real. They were _there_ once. 

She preferred pretending she was okay and that she was over whatever leaving Seattle brought on her.

Arizona sighed and picked up the phone, dialing a number she knew by heart.

“Hey, Teddy?”

A muffled voice answered.

“How was the intern exams in Seattle this year?”

…

Callie looked down at the creases on her palm and fell back, leaning on the plastic seats of the subway. She smiled quietly to herself as she suddenly remembered Arizona standing there in a tank top, drinking a day-old Red Bull in her kitchen. She knew she must’ve looked like an idiot smiling to her hands to the people in her train. But she was trying to be a responsible adult person, she really was.

She was keeping track of her credit cards. She was ordering less take-out. She was trying to plan out her future and focus on hard work and stopping her habit of going out on the wiry porch to watch stars at three in the morning. Callie liked to think that she almost had this whole ‘responsible adult’ thing down cold. She didn’t stuff feelings into everything that didn’t have feelings, and she was crying less every time she watched Dead Poets Society.

She rocked her intern exam.

…

Arizona was saving lives and kicking ass, and it was everything a doctor could ever dream to reach in their residency. There was only about a month left, and it would mark an entire year in Africa.

It shouldn’t have been surprising; Arizona always was an overachiever.

She hanged up the phone call with Teddy, hanging up with all the contact she maintained with Seattle too.

She never did send any postcards to Callie. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. She did, actually, _really_ want to.

If fact, there was a small pile of postcards in the small cubicle they had given her. Nine of them were scrapped, with so many failed lines of ink that she no longer had much of space to fit in a single sentence that would ask Callie about her life. Their dates varied between almost ten months ago to only last week.

The tenth postcard sat in the middle of the desk, with only a “Calliope,” written carefully in spidery handwriting.

Arizona walked back to her desk and sat down.

She spun a pen around her thumb and leaned back into the chair.

It was only until a cricket chirped outside the open window that she sat up again, picking up the pen. The ink made a small blob on the top right corner of the postcard, and Arizona didn’t hesitate before writing.

_“Calliope,_

She paused, twisting her mouth and listening to the quiet night noise.

_We are something. And we could have been something great, even, I’m sure of it._

_I did fall for you. But we both had careers to pursue and different lives to take care of, and I never told you._

_You never said anything either, but honestly, I think we both knew._

_From Arizona”_

Her pager buzzed and she put the cap back onto her pen, blowing the ink dry. This was a last piece of care to a bout of falling she’d left behind, all the way back in Seattle.

She hurriedly slipped it between two pages of a book on her desk and stood up, pulling on her lab coat.

Arizona never sent that postcard.

…

There had been a kind of bar gathering with Mark and a couple of people she honestly didn’t even know that well. Somewhere in the middle of the noisy dance floor, Callie caught sight a swirl of blonde hair, twisting and turning in an idiotically tight dress. Arizona would never wear that kind of dress, Callie was certain, and between the two of them, Callie would be first one to go out in something like that.

But the woman’s hair was bright and shiny and reminded her of Arizona for the first time of the week, and she scowled a little. It reminded her of those moments when Arizona had dropped her ways of a shark-like resident and was gentle and caring with Callie, slightly bubblier and certainly more smiley.

Callie clinked her glass with Bailey, a resident a year older that hated everyone, but seemed to tolerate her. Their blue drinks sloshed and burned when it washed down her throat.

She had begun living deliberately, trying to ignore the few stares that came when a new intern this year asked her out (and the even more numerous stares that came when she declined. She chose her morning coffee the way she liked it, instead of sticking to raw black coffee just to look tough. It made her feel better.

She also supposed that _this_ was better.

She liked Arizona, and with Arizona gone, she could remember Arizona the way she fancied.

Arizona wouldn’t ever get old. She wouldn’t ever sleep with too many women or cheat on a significant other or be rude to a cashier on a bad day. Arizona wouldn’t ever get past thirty and start disliking new technology and start buying too many makeup products to reduce her wrinkles.

In Callie’s mind, Arizona would always be slanted just to the left of a golden ray of light, in a tank top and smiling at her from clean white bed sheets, hair tousled from the night before. In Callie’s mind, Arizona was forever twenty-nine and young and daring, with bright tinkly laughter and a fiery touch that made Callie fervent with the smell of her own youth.

She frowned and raised a curious eyebrow when Mark eyed Teddy up and down and whispered something with his flirty face pulled over his neatly trimmed moustache.

And then she frowned again because the way she was thinking of Arizona was almost like she was dead, and frankly, she didn’t like that thought one bit.

When Callie got home that night, she sat beside the crackly television while her phone charged enough to restart.

Under her dusty light, she added ‘Malawi, Africa’ to the weather app.

…

Arizona had only been informed of the exact length of her stay, or rather, the rest of her stay in Africa a week ago. She wasn’t very sure whether she was happy or disappointed that she was to embark on a return flight to Seattle in only eleven months.

Through leaving and arriving and moving all her life, there was one thing she knew, and it was that the hardest thing was always knowing when to let go.

There were a couple of pretty nurses in her clinic, but somehow, she didn’t feel the urge to sleep with one of them. The nearest any of them got to actually knowing her as something more than a colleague was a night when another resident brought two baskets of something that was actually alcohol (Arizona somehow got drunk less easily in the southern side of the equator) and they all sat in a circle, drinking.

After Arizona knocked back her third after only fifteen minutes, a nurse with batting eyelashes scooted very close and eyed her up and down. Arizona had taken no care and raised her glass in salute. People around them were too busy benefiting from the relaxed air of the one night to really care if people started hooking up.

A bit foggy, Arizona put down her glass when the nurse kept looking.

And then the pretty girl leaned in and kissed her on the mouth, tasting bitter and smelled of cigarette ashes. Arizona shifted away and frowned.

The girl had blonde hair and big eyes and a very American voice. She asked Arizona if it was a person’s name that she was trying to drown in alcohol.

Arizona answered that it wasn’t, that she was just a bit nostalgic, and that she had no fucking idea on how exactly to feel all this nostalgia.

…

It was winter again, and Callie was spending a rare day off on her bed, covers pulled over her shoulders and squinting at her phone screen.

It was raining in Malawi again, and Callie had started a habit of writing in a diary.

Well, it was more of a few scribbles here and there in a cheap notebook that was interrupted occasionally by a receipt or a movie ticket. It made her feel less lonely.

It was snowing in Seattle again, and Callie liked sleeping alone.

Fumbling through the sheets, she found a roll of tape and tore off a piece through her teeth, slipping out one of the pictures that came out of the cameras on the new year’s party this year. She stood in the middle of (a very drunk) Meredith and Cristina, smiling widely. She stuck it next to the familiar one of her grinning at the camera and Arizona grinning at her.

Under the older photo, there was her handwriting from a year ago, spelling out loopy cursive words. ‘ _We are very happy here._ ’

Under the new photo, she found a pen under the bed and wrote carefully, ‘ _I am still very happy now’_.

…

Humid air and the same old rainy weather both came before summer did at Seattle.

Callie sat on her mattress and scowled at the empty wall lined with medical books. Her bed, or rather, mattress with three different sheets and a pillow on it, laid in its corner of the dark basement and she tried not to dwell on the dream she had of Arizona.

Of course, it was typical really, just as Callie was beginning to forget about her, she had a dream that kept her awake at four in the morning.

If she closed her eyes, she could still see the pharmacy she’d walked out of her dream. White walls, tall shelves, a quiet forbidding between big posters of white teeth and bright colors. The air conditioning that was turned on too low couldn’t have followed her into the parking lot, where the half decade that lied between them couldn’t have kept her from running into Arizona.

_…Arizona?_

_Arizona looked up from frowning at her energy drink and smiled._

_Calliope! Long time no see._

Arizona had nicer clothes in her dream. A loose but well-tailored suit, looking like every other professional woman people wouldn’t mess with. A nicer car too, on which she was leaning on. Not a nicer cigarette though, those things were never very nice, but it looked thinner, more elegant, richer.

Like someone who was doing well in life.

_Wow, what has it been…like, six years?_

_I suppose it has. Since I came back from Africa and transferred to Seattle Pres, huh?_

That was how things always turned out, Callie sighed, half humourlessly smiling to herself. Friends left, even if just out of reach, and it was always the doomed beginning of having each other’s lives untangle completely from each other.

It was funny how she still winced a little when she heard Arizona’s name.

_You know, you once bet me we’d never get this old._

_Callie chuckled, smoothing out her yellow sundress that was not at all appropriate for the dingy parking lot. Yeah, well, things change. And we did get old._

_Unfortunate, isn’t it?_

_Well, I mean, not entirely, maybe. I heard you were doing pretty well._

_Arizona smiled the same way she did, one tired corner of her mouth curling up almost unwillingly. She snuffed out the cigarette and crushed it under a high heel._

_Yup, I am. Saving babies, all that stuff. I started a new speciality a few years back actually, fetal surgery and poking into hearts in uterus, you know._

Callie was certain she would have missed Arizona’s smile if she had come across her anywhere else a few years ago. And then seven months passed, just before Arizona had to leave for Africa, she turned into the only smile Callie could find so quickly in a crowd.

She guessed it was a good thing, kind of, after getting over the pesky and unimportant feelings that she of slight unworthiness after Arizona had left for Africa.

In another universe, they probably wouldn’t have ever met. But luckily for them, in this one, they did.

_Arizona chuckled stuffed her hands back into her pant pockets without a can or a cigarette to hold onto._

_I’m sure Addison told you about the new breakthroughs and everything. She was the bridesmaid at your wedding, after all._

_Callie shifted on her feet and replied with a matching smile._

_She was. And I’m so proud of the both of you._

_Arizona shrugged humbly._

_I heard you were doing well too. The years have been kind to you._

_Yeah, yeah…I am, yeah, with the robotic legs, veterans, a couple of ted talks… Callie nodded._

_And you, Arizona? Any…_

_Arizona laughed, an actual airy laugh. A laugh that floated out because she couldn’t contain the feelings. She grinned, the real kind too, dimples and all._

_Husbands? Wives? Girlfriends? No, not really. Just mistakes with different names._

_Callie nodded. Cool. As long as you’re happy._

_I am, I would say. Arizona lifted a shoulder._

_I think I’m happy._

And then Callie could no longer make sense of the rest of the dream that came back in small bits.

Arizona had told her that maybe if they changed back into cornflower scrubs, they could live everything again. Callie had answered that the distance between scut and a scalpel was really only five years of their time. Arizona had said that she had a pile of postcards at the bottom of her dresser because she actually did write to Callie in Africa, and then whenever she went on business trips afterwards because it had become some sort of habit. Callie had said that she still drank Monster sometimes, even though she hated it.

She furrowed her brows and thought harder.

Arizona had said that they were putting on expensive suits and pretending to grow up, and Callie had replied that farewell really did mean that they wouldn’t meet again. Arizona had said that their youth mattered no matter how they chose to spend it, and Callie had said that this earthliness, it always hurt like a bitch.

_And whatever I’ve got, I’m eager to lose._

_Callie wanted to cry but she didn’t whether they would be happy tears or salty sadness that finally leaked through._

_We are only blood and bad timing._

_We will never be this young again._

_Callie stepped closer._

_What if this time, I asked you to stay? And what if this time, you said yes?_

A decade later, they would surely have families and different lovers. They will live in different suburbs with different houses and different ways of being sad. Arizona probably would have quit smoking and she wouldn’t smile the same way anymore.

Callie laid back down and turned to face the wall.

She was not where Arizona left her.

…

Arizona plopped back down onto a rough couch and high fived the nurse.

“That was our hardest patient in a while, you know, Doctor Robbins?”

“It certainly was. Good job back there.”

The nurse smiled smugly under her dark mascara and pasty skin. Arizona didn’t look at her, instead she picked at a loose string of her scrub top and tried not to think of cigarettes.

“Poor kids. Thank god we’re here for them.”

Arizona shrugged and said, “Probably will go into my list of reasons why I don’t want children.”

“Really?” The nurse sat down beside her and raised her eyebrows. “People would think you’d be crazy for kids, you love ‘em.”

“Eh. I mean, I love them as long as they’re not mine.” Arizona hesitated when the nurse batted her eyelashes. “What was your name again?”

“Mia. Mia Gesolis.”

“Is our shift over?”

The girl smiled sweetly at her.

The corners of her mouth went upwards and her eyes didn’t budge. She didn’t have a nice smile.

Arizona cleared her throat. “You have a nice smile.”

“Thank you!”

“And yeah, I think our shift is over.”

Arizona blinked and let her lashes stay downwards a fraction of a second longer.

She stood up. “Okay. I’d better get going.” Picking up her mug, she took a large gulp and revelled in the bitter coffee.

“W-Well I thought that maybe—”

“I’m not going to sleep with you.” Arizona ignored the nurse’s surprised and irritated expression and forced a polite smile. “That’s someone that I no longer am.”

She walked towards the door and left behind a half-sincere ‘sorry’.

She was no longer the person she was two years ago.

…

Rare nights out were even rarer when all of Callie’s friends were surgeons.

And this was a very rare night out.

Joe’s bar buzzed with booze and music, and their booth was squished all the way in the back. It was Wednesday night, and Callie never liked Wednesdays, but she guessed this one was okay.

Mark and Teddy and Bailey sat beside her, all slack-jawed and surprised, staring at Cristina juggling four jugs of beer.

“Guys,” Teddy spoke up first. “Guys. This isn’t a dream, right?”

“Nope.”

“Oh god,” Mark croaked, “Cristina Yang is letting bratty men feel her up and making disgusting blue drinks.” He downed the rest of his scotch and made a face. “This _is_ a fever dream.”

Callie played with her straw and watched Bailey not answer anyone and continue lifting her glass, finishing another one of those deadly blue drinks. “I think it’s nice.”

Teddy snapped her head her way.

Callie doesn’t giggle. Only when she was tipsy.

Callie giggled. “What? I think it’s nice. As long as it makes her happy, then it’s nice.” She propped up her chin with a hand. “I think I’m going to get a hair cut. I want short hair.”

“I want—” Bailey burped loudly and both Mark and Teddy winced, earning themselves a glare. “I want fistulas. A solution for… _fistulas._ ”

“I need a sexual sorbet,” Mark groaned.

“No, _you_ need to get over Addison moving away.”

He glared at Teddy. “You can’t talk. You don’t get to talk when you’re all happy with you hot baseball guy.”

“I need to get over Addison moving away too,” Callie drawled, “Everyone is leaving! Everyone leaves me eventually! I’m inlovable!” She frowned. “No, uh… _un_ lovable.”

“I don’t think Addison moving away was in any way because of you. Besides, she promised that she’d visit often.”

Mark rolled his eyes, patting Callie’s head that dropped on his shoulder. “How’s your hot blonde chick? Arizona? Have you heard from her?”

Teddy swallowed a peanut whole and averted her eyes.

“No,” Callie said as she glared at him, “She was a long time ago. I don’t think of her anymore.”

He nodded, pursing his lips. “Right.”

Bailey raised her hand and waved over Cristina. “Another round, Yang. On me.”

The rest of the table cheered and Callie giggled when Bailey took a fake bow. They raised their glasses and stood up unsteadily, saying not at all in unity, “Here’s to us!”

“To Mark becoming less of a man-whore.” He grinned toothily and jutted out his chin in pride.

“To Teddy finally settling down and being our role-model right now.” She blushed a little.

“To Bailey owning her residency and scaring all the interns, emphasis on the one that keeps asking Callie out.” She rolled her eyes and wacked Mark in the back.

“And to Callie, finally having her own apartment and moving out of that terrible basement!”

A bit of the drinks sloshed over the sides as they clinked their glasses and sat back down.

And Callie meant every word she said. She loved the delicate way the night tore her open.

Back in her basement, she looked around the packed-up boxes and sighed, flopping down onto her good old mattress that was one of the only things left laying around. She patted around the sheets until she found a little notebook shaped bump.

Clicking a pen, she flipped it open.

_June 24, 2012. Slightly rainy but not very depressing._

She paused, got up, and went to close the windows.

_I’m leaving this basement in another day, and I can’t I’m not excited. I’ll miss it._

_It’s creaky floorboards and moldy windows and drippy bathroom sink. God, daddy would’ve been disgusted if he found out that I lived in this place._

A cricket chirped and Callie puffed out her cheek. Reaching to her right, she propped up her phone up and directed the flashlight onto the yellow pages.

_I don’t know if I’ll remember this in five years. In ten years._

_I get sad when I think of all the nights that I loved but wouldn’t remember forever. There are familiar smiles that I see everyday and that I won’t know anymore in a few years, and that sucks._

_Everything sucks, all the time. But sometimes, things suck less, and I think those are the moments I really need to try to remember._

…

Sometime into September, Arizona stood at her desk and shuffled a few files. She thought of the tickets back to Seattle laying in her drawer, next to a small pile of postcards.

A bird landed on the windowsill that was way too thin and Arizona looked into the small mirror perched on the edge of the table. Staring back was not the girl she used to know.

She wasn’t very sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

In her earphones, was the same fifteen songs on repeat since the beginning of her two years in Africa.

The world, while mostly garbage, had these remarkable moments. Like now. Where Arizona was at peace, packing up a bit of stuff for Seattle and thinking about the surgery she was to perform in the afternoon.

There was always a strange feeling when she was about to leave a place. She didn’t know if she could fit back in Seattle. She didn’t know what to do, as she once told someone beside a lonely highway, with all this permanence either.

Times like these, or rather, the times that were already passing, were rare. These times that only got better because she wanted them to. Arizona took her phone out of her pocket and opened her photos. There weren’t many photos, only a little past two hundred. She disliked the cramped feeling of having pictures of too many things she wouldn’t ever get a use of.

Scrolling up, she found the one she was looking for.

It zoomed up on the small screen and Callie’s face looked back up at her. Nose bright pink, shining through the frost and cold, and she had on that goddamn dress she was always so stubborn to wear in the middle of the winter.

Callie was laughing like she used to in front of that ridiculously blue sky right in the back of Arizona’s old truck, laughing like a sad love song that buzzed through radios in the early morning hours.

Arizona couldn’t help but smile too.

“Doctor Robbins?”

Arizona looked up.

Mia poked her head through the door and waved her hand. “It’s almost time to scrub in for your surgery.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mia.”

Arizona looked back down and the song in her earphones ended.

She took a breath and pressed the little red trash can.

And then the phone was back on the table, her earphones neatly wrapped around.

And the only picture she had of the exact way she was happy before coming to Malawi was permanently deleted.

…

They will never have those lives they dreamt of when they were six that teacher asked them to describe.

But Callie stood in the middle of her new apartment and she was happy.

“A new start.”

Mark clapped her on the back and put the last box down. “Yup.”

Callie nodded to herself. “I’m going to be fine. Just fine.”

Outside, the first snow of the year started floating down.

“We’re going to do great, Cal. Don’t worry.” Mark walked over to the fridge and took out a beer. Callie had no idea when the beers got in there. “We’re hot.” He cracked open the cap. “We’re cool.” He took a swig. “We’ll people and we’ll get invited to prestigious medical ceremony thingies because we’re so cool.”

“I hope so.”

“I _know_ so.”

Callie rolled her eyes. “I _know_ so.”

Mark laughed, handing her a second beer. “Anyway, I’ve started teaching interns. I’ve found this whole teaching-the-next-generation thing pretty nice.”

“Pretty _nice_?” Callie narrowed her eyes, finally turning to look at him. “They’re hot, aren’t they? Which ones have you fixed your creepy, smug, admittedly hot face on this time?”

“Only one, actually. For once.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” He looked away, looking almost embarrassed. “Her name’s Lexie. Lexie Grey.”

“Grey? Like, as in, _Meredith Grey_?”

Mark made a face and a beer-free hand in her direction. “How ‘bout you? You’re hot. Especially with your new haircut. Haven’t that O’Malley guy pestered you even more?”

Callie couldn’t help but chuckle and shake her shoulders, bobbing her new hair that came down to just below her chin. The blue streaks had a bit of light bounce of them.

Mark raised an eyebrow.

“Urgh.” Callie scowled. “George isn’t that bad. He’s sweet.”

Mark raised his eyebrow again.

“Really. He’s kinder than anyone has been to me in a long time.”

…

It had been past t-shirt weather for a few weeks (with the exception of those adolescent boys who run around in tanks and shorts even in snow). The shops down fifth avenue were putting out Christmas decorations in the display windows again, Starbucks started making pumpkin spice and peppermint drinks…

And Arizona was back on this coast.

The sun was shining brightly, her skin was a tiny shade darker, and her hair had grown long, and then had been cut short again. The ends clung to her chin and Arizona closed her eyes, sucking in the familiar Seattle air. Her phone was just sitting in her pocket, still waiting to be dialed.

She was here again, for all the things she sometimes, a little more rarely, but sometimes, couldn’t let go. The hospital, the friends, the bars, the highways, the seven-elevens…

A yellow taxi zoomed past, raising a cloud of smoke and a child yelled gibberish across the street. Arizona thought of Callie and smiled.

They were so close, but they were not, and in the end, that was what mattered.

They were so close.

But they were separate people, getting on with separate bits of life.


	6. AND SO ON

_‘What you have told me is quite a romance […], and the worst of having a romance of any kind is that it leaves one so unromantic.’”_

_\-- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray_

* * *

_DECEMBER 18, 2012_

All clear-headed and sober, all independent and calm, Arizona got out of her new car and patted her sensible gray pants.

She had a new car. _Her_ car.

One that was not a hand-me-down old truck whose keys Tim threw her just before running off to join the army. One that was not rented.

The endless possibilities, the awaiting patients, they still mattered even if she once had something here to hold her down.

She was feeling like a very adult-person.

The hospital’s front doors slid open and she stepped back into this old familiar place. They had painted the front desks navy instead of the old puke-like beige. It was nice.

Arizona had put Callie down and let her go and all those other verbs and sayings that meant that they were both being realistic and moving on, she really had. No matter how unfamiliar and awkward they would become, Arizona hoped that Callie knew.

Arizona hoped that Callie knew that the way that the way she was good to her was true and honest.

She hoped that Callie wouldn’t regret knowing her, even if things got awkward.

…

“Hey, Cal?”

Callie looked up from fiddling aimlessly with her phone. “Hm?”

Mark scratched the back of his neck, leaning on his car and glanced towards Cristina. She lifted her eyebrows.

Mark cleared his throat. “I heard from Derek, because you know, he’s always getting into the chief’s face about everything, and well, uh, I think he heard from—”

“Get on with it, Sloan,” Cristina drawled.

“Fine, well, I think Robbins is came back from Africa. And she’s taken up attending pediatric surgeon. Here.”

Cristina and Mark both looked at Callie.

Callie looked back at them.

“I’m fine,” she finally offered, half smiling at their stressed-looking faces.

“You sure?”

She rolled her eyes and flipped her now shoulder-length hair, walking away from Mark’s car. “I’m very sure. Let’s get into the hospital now before people start dying.”

“It’s not a problem?”

“Cristina being my roommate and leaving spaghetti stains all over the couch is a bigger problem then this. It was supposed to be _my_ apartment.”

“Oh please, help your friends out.”

Mark and Cristina fell into step beside her, with Mark still fussing like a little old lady. “You two had a thing going on, right?”

“I mean yeah, I guess we did.”

Cristina motioned for her to continue.

“But it was two years ago. And we were barely… _anything_.”

“True, but we _also_ know…that…” Mark glanced over to Cristina, looking for help.

“That you fall hard. You’re too good to people. That you’re a sensitive piece of tough-on-the-outside, crybaby-on-the-inside.”

“Wow, that did _not_ help, Yang.”

“I’d like to think it helped express things a bit clearer.”

Callie spun around, walking backwards in front of them and waved a finger. “First, I am not a crybaby anywhere, inside _or_ outside.”

“Just a big-ass softie who cries at books,” Cristina mumbled.

“Everyone does that Cristina, everyone who has a soul. Second, I’m all grown up now. See?” She gestured at herself.

“I don’t see it.”

Mark squinted his eyes. “Me neither. To me, you’re always that little girl that I had pick up off the floor from crying over that bitch Erica.”

“Okay, _we don’t talk about her_. Also, I meant that I…I know when to let things go now. When to stop giving. To, um, be _careful_. I’ve already lost a family and a trust fund; I’m not going to run around like the girl I once was and lose you guys too.”

Mark and Cristina stopped walking just outside the front doors, staring at Callie.

After a short while, she shifted uncomfortably. “What?”

Cristina spoke up first, after judgementally scrutinizing her. “Nothing. I guess…you’re right. We’re proud of you.”

Mark slapped an arm over Callie’s shoulders, dragging the three of them through the automatic doors.

“Walk tall, Torres, walk tall.”

Walking into the hospital, Mark caught the sight of Richard walking away with a blonde woman by his side, but he looked at Callie’s light and carefree face and decided to not mention it just then.

…

Richard came forward to greet Arizona, all smiles and nice words and ‘welcome back’s’. Arizona shared an awkward half-hug with him and nodded at everything he was saying.

He clasped his hands behind his back and led her to the elevators, past new faces of nurses she no longer recognised, pressing on a button that looked way newer than the worn-down ones they used to have. Out walked Derek Shepherd and an intern that Arizona knew that Callie was friends with. Meredith Grey, she was called, Arizona was almost sure.

The both of them looked a bit red and embarrassed.

Arizona greeted them politely and they shook hands, giving congratulations and more welcome backs.

The elevator dinged.

They walked out and Richard led her into a corridor. Arizona followed him, and she thought she recognised the corridor, the way the patient room doors lined up on one wall.

And then she was almost certain that she didn’t.

And then they arrived at the attending’s lounge and once again, she was sure all over again of where they were going.

Arizona stood between two lumpy couches and a fancier coffee machine and watched Richard take out a new pair of navy scrubs and hold them out proudly.

“I’ll let you change,” he told her before clapping her on the back and walking out.

Arizona nodded and thanked him.

A few minutes later, she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and smoothed out her scrubs.

All the days she had dreamt of wearing these scrubs that weren’t light blue anymore.

And now she really was here.

She sighed.

“Arizona! So you really are back, huh?”

Teddy came bursting through the door with a big shit-eating grin and opened her arms.

Arizona rolled her eyes and hugged her quickly. “You were the one who helped me move back in. And then proceeded to have lunch with me three days in a row. You don’t have to pretend it’s the first time you’re seeing me every, single, _time_.”

“I know, but it’s fun. You’ve been gone for so long.”

“Urgh.”

Teddy started up the coffee machine and filled her in a bit on the gossip. A certain Owen Hunt suddenly popping back into Seattle, Henry and her still going strong, Derek Shepherd and Meredith Grey having some sort of back-and-forth thing…

Arizona leaned on the grey wall and listened, half-smiling.

“Anyway, I have a heart transplant in a bit, I gotta get going or Yang’s going to kill me.”

“Yang?”

Teddy pushed open the door and waited for Arizona to walk through with her. “Yeah. She’s so _bossy_ and _eager_ , it feels like she’s some sort of…undercover attending sometimes.”

“Yikes.”

“Yup.”

They walked out of the lounge and Arizona wondered if anything was going to go back to the way they used to be.

And then just like any other morning, Mark and Callie were hovering beside the nurse’s station. Arizona walked next to Teddy like nothing had changed and Callie passed along patient files and dirty jokes, laughing and nodding and within arm’s reach.

Callie looked thinner. And Arizona immediately worried because what if residency was too tiring and she wasn’t eating or sleeping enough?

And Callie’s hair got shorter. It was bouncing just above her shoulder with streaks of blue in them. And the way she waved her arms seemed different too, and just…the entire concept of Callie suddenly seemed so far away.

Like centuries ago. Like a lifetime ago.

But then, Mark said something and Callie swayed around, and called her name, waved and nodded, and Arizona instinctively smiled back. It was just like before.

As if nothing had ever changed. 

As if Callie was still standing in her bedroom after a new year’s party with sunlight in her hair and sex on her skin. As if they were still twenty-something and wasting their lives away.

“Welcome back, Arizona.”

Arizona was still smiling and she couldn’t bring herself to say anything, so she just nodded.

Mark came forward too, shifting slightly in front of Callie. “Good to have you back, Robbins. Congratulations on becoming attending.”

“Thank you, Doctor Sloan.”

It was like they always knew that things wouldn’t work out, like they were never anything more then friends.

Callie pulled on Mark’s arm, mouthing something Arizona couldn’t quite make out.

“Yeah, well,” Callie cleared her throat, “We’ll leave you to get used to everything again.”

Arizona watched them walked away and swallowed hard.

She turned around and kept walking with Teddy and steered themselves down a separate hallway, even though this one led nowhere close to peds.

Teddy raised an eyebrow at her. “So?”

“So what?”

“Afterthoughts? On Callie?”

Arizona shrugged. “No thoughts. Why would you even ask?”

“Dunno, I thought…you might care?”

“I…” Arizona thought for a moment. About new year parties and postcards. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Teddy stopped walking in front of patient room three-o-two. “So…”

“Another meaningless lover.”

Teddy shrugged in response. “Okay then.” Patting Arizona on the arm, she gave her a more sincere look. “Good luck on your first day. I’m happy to have you back.”

“I think I’m happy to be back too.”

…

Callie felt like the human version of an Oscar Wilde-type dramatic yet Victorian monologue.

The lights were off in the on-call room of the fourth floor, far away from the orthopedic department that she pursued endlessly these days, and far away from the pediatric apartment, where she was sure Arizona was.

Far away from what tied her to herself.

She didn’t know why she was bringing Arizona into this equation. She didn’t care, not anymore.

Callie laid flat on the small bed and stared at the ceiling, the darkness swallowing her whole. She couldn’t see anything, and in an instant of déjà-vu, Arizona’s dimpled grin flashed by her eyes.

Only then did Callie realise, it really had been so long since she had thought of Arizona with this irritating nostalgia.

Only then did Callie realise that it really was true, the way people said that time heals and time washes the dread away.

Only then did Callie realise that Arizona wasn’t as so terribly unforgettable as she once thought.

…

Arizona knew better then to waste her life away wishing for more then what she had.

She was raised in a military family. A strict moral code, respect, and a love for donuts defined her. She’ll be alright.

Her hair was sticking to the sides of her face and she pushed them back irritatingly.

Arizona still had a pile of charts to complete for that slimy fossil pediatric attending and she still hadn’t paid rent this month. Her parents were calling her again, trying to set her up on dates. An intern spilled jello over the same fossil attending’s computer, and she took the blame. (Cue those piles of charts.) She’d also just lost a kid on her table during a simple appendectomy, and she felt like sticking someone’s head through a wall.

The fourth floor was faraway from both the pediatric and the orthopedic departments. Callie seemed to be liking ortho, now that Arizona thought of it. She mentally approved of an image of ortho Calliope with a drill, all badass and confident.

And then Arizona frowned a little. She wanted to find Callie and shake her on the shoulders and tell her that she should be going into orthopedics because she loved it, not because she had something to prove. Arizona saw her better than Callie knew.

Arizona knew that Callie didn’t know that she saw the tremors of insecurity and low self-esteem that bothered. Arizona _saw_ her. Arizona knew that Callie came off as bossy and a bit arrogant sometimes because of the trembling need to not fall apart under the weight of insecurity.

Arizona so desperately wanted to take a hammer and some nails and fix it. But it was not her place to do so.

And all she could do was to flop down on a gurney in the corridor no one used, flip open a chart and sigh. She could only continue doing what was told of her. She glanced at her watch. Half past eight. Another day had already meandered by, and even as she was working overtime, she was only partly living. Only half-alive. Half asleep.

Sometimes, she had to tap her own head and ask herself, _am I still alive?_

There had _got_ to be more to life then this.

She kind of regretted telling Teddy that she really was happy to be back.

But, weirdly, she didn’t hate this. Being here, in Seattle, even as everything royally sucked sometimes, it was… _comfortably sucking._

Or something else more eloquent.

Arizona was never good with words when it wasn’t a speech about Callie.

…

Was it even true?

Or was it just the summer and the night?

The heartbeat that threatened to burst out of Arizona all the times she used to drive her old truck to Callie’s basement and pick her up for pathetic rides. The way they fell a little every time they fucked before Arizona left for Africa, but never mentioned.

Oh god, was it even real?

Maybe it was just two dumb young souls wishing to want and to be wanted.

Arizona knew that people always did an awful lot of stupid things when they were horny.

### …

Meredith Grey threw the new year’s party this year.

Well, not precisely a party, more like a night to get drunk at Joe’s. And Meredith wasn’t even paying for the drinks.

So Arizona didn’t know why Teddy asked her to go to _Meredith_ ’s new year’s party, but that was the least of her worries.

“Maybe you can go talk to her.”

Arizona glared at Teddy. “No.”

“You liked her. As a friend, at the very least.”

“I did, that’s true. She was a great friend.”

“Is. Is a great friend.”

Arizona didn’t reply, instead, she watched the bells at the door jingle as Cristina entered, followed by Meredith and Callie. A bit of the fresh February wind entered with them and Teddy shivered beside her.

“I’m only telling you that Callie seemed nice, and I know for a fact that she’s a good person with people lining up for her,” Teddy said after a moment of silence.

“I know.”

“As long as you know. Then I won’t push anymore.”

Arizona gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Robbins. And now,” Teddy wiggled her eyebrows, “I’m going to go mingle. Wanna come?”

Arizona gasped jokingly, putting a hand over her chest. “You have Henry already, Theodora! Take responsibility for that poor man!”

“I feel hot tonight! I won’t do anything, I’ll just…” Teddy paused, then raised her eyebrows. “ _Mingle_.”

Arizona laughed, shaking her head.

“You coming?”

“No, I’m good, the others are arriving,” Arizona answered.

“Aw, come on. Since when have you been hesitant to pick up a girl and take her home?”

Arizona shrugged. “People change. I’ve changed. I’ve…what do they call it… _matured_.”

“Huh.” Teddy gave her a curious look. “Good for you. I, on the other hand, have not. So…ciao!”

Arizona shook her head amusedly at Teddy’s back sauntering away. She waved Joe over and ordered a round of tequila just as the residents neared.

…

“And _this_ is a wrap-up of another year where I’ve acted like I knew what I was doing,” Cristina said as she downed a shot before even plopping down on a spare stool facing Arizona. “For the record, I most definitely did _not_ know what I was doing.”

Callie chuckled as she sat down naturally beside Arizona and Meredith sat down next to Cristina.

Arizona was surprised. She thought things were at least going to be awkward for a little bit before either Cristina or Meredith got too drunk to care. It was a very pleasant kind of surprise though, when Callie’s friends acted although she never even left.

“Ignore Cristina, she’s just immature and needs a bonk.”

Cristina looked at Meredith with sincere disgust. “I need a _bonk_?”

“Get railed. Get laid. You get it.”

“No, I absolutely do not.”

Callie made a face at Arizona. “You can ignore them both. We’re all like, three days past our bedtime.”

“Oh yeah, residency’s a bitch.”

Arizona nodded solemnly, stifling a chuckle. “Whenever you collapse next is the next time you gotta sleep. It’s up to the gods.”

She kept smiling, even though she could tell Callie was holding back a little bit. But she was alright with it, because she supposed things were to be awkward no matter how, and this was already pretty much the best case scenario.

Cristina raised another shot of tequila. “Yes! Robbins gets it.”

“No, she does not! Don’t mess with your health, children,” Richard threw into their conversation as he passed by the table, seemingly making a beeline towards the dance floor, “take it from a recovering alcoholic. Which is going to be you, Yang, if you don’t control that tequila.”

They stared at the chief’s back as he started doing an awkward shuffling dance squeezed in between a raving Teddy Altman and an uncomfortable looking Derek Shepherd.

Cristina blinked.

And then she raised another shot, clinked glasses in perfect timing with Callie, and downed it in one go.

After letting a loud burp ring out, she sighed contently. “I like to keep my liver health on its toes. Is it going to be complete starvation or ten gallons of alcohol today?” Cristina shrugged. “It shall never know.”

…

The moon was not full, and the people stranded beneath it laughed and clapped each other on the backs as new year’s chimed.

A fair number of memories slammed back towards Callie right in the face when everyone cheered straight into January.

Right there, came feelings she’d thought she’d forgotten.

Callie stood next to Arizona and she turned her head, quite enough tequila in her veins, shakily set on attempting a conversation. She was going to tell her that this moment was awfully like the one just before Arizona left for Malawi.

Callie couldn’t stuff the words past her own lips when she met Arizona’s clear eyes, and they looked at each other like they were about to kiss.

It wasn’t her fault when the adrenaline got to her head and she leaned forward to peck Arizona instead on the cheek. Callie pulled back to see Arizona a little flustered and she couldn’t see past her alcohol-clouded eyes.

It wasn’t her fault either when Callie couldn’t wipe the dopey grin off her face.

“Happy new year, Calliope.”

The words sounded like they were almost wrung out of Arizona against her will.

“You too,” Callie replied.

…

Mark had finished making out with Lexie and dragged Callie off to the dance floor, and simultaneously getting her drunk.

Arizona stirred her drink and chose to stay out of the messy night bar for once.

It wasn’t until the third song finished that Callie managed to stumble back to their seats. She didn’t notice Arizona was there until she’d already flopped down on the stool, and then it was too late and she was too drunk to try to avoid awkward conversations.

“You know,” Arizona said, half-smiling to the Callie that no longer knew how to sit up straight, “two years ago, we could stay up until three in the morning, even if it was in a crappy parking lot, and we’d talk about dumb things and all the things we were going to do with all that future.”

Callie nodded confusedly. Arizona helped to steady her with one hand on the arm. Warm and enticing.

Arizona paused for a moment before continuing. “And now, I don’t even know how to go up and say hi when you’re sober.”

_I guess this is what all adult friendships come to. Mannered ways of reconciliating that only made things flow further away._

Callie looked up, cheeks red and eyes a bit unfocused. Arizona almost giggled at seeing Callie drunk for the first time. Her normal Calliope Torres wasn’t adorable. At least, Arizona wouldn’t dare ever call her adorable to her face (although she thought about it enormously).

“You look adorable right now.”

Callie tried to scowl at her, but it turned into more of an embarrassed smile.

Arizona laughed. She was able to make her self stay away, but if it was Callie that came to her, she would never be able to make herself not be there for her.

Callie cleared her throat and her eyes focused on Arizona’s laughing face. “I thought that putting some distance between the two of us would make you come talking to me sooner or later.”

Arizona stopped chuckling and just looked at Callie.

“But it just made me want to talk to you more. And most of the things we used to talk about, I can’t even remember. I just remember that it was nice.” Callie sighed dreamily. “Really nice.”

“I mean, it’s awkward in the beginning, but we’re still friends. And you’ll probably only remember the fuzzy bits of this conversation, so I’m going to tell you a secret.”

Arizona hooked a finger, encouraging Callie to come closer. A bit more quietly, she said, “Just because I didn’t call or text doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about you, doesn’t mean I no longer care. I still get urges to talk to you, and instead I ask Teddy about you. I knew you aced your intern exam, and I know that your first solo surgery was lumps and bumps but that you hate to admit it because it really sucked.”

“Oh yeah,” Callie groaned, “it was terrible. Better than Cristina’s c-section though, she was so offended. All she ever thinks about are hearts.”

Arizona chuckled. “Everything has changed since I was here. The twisted sisters both found people for them even though they don’t admit it. There have been so many new batches of interns that I can’t remember the names and you’ve grown into a great resident. But I’ll still willingly lend you my shoulders and ears, because you’re the easiest person ever to talk to and I trust you and I just missed you in general.”

Arizona sighed. “I’ll always be your friend, if you’d want me to.”

Callie giggled in a daze. “It’s never too late to rebuild that, right?”

“It never is,” Arizona said as she pried Callie’s fingers away from the glass of tequila. “But you, Calliope, need to step drinking for a little.”

“Nooo,” Callie groaned, “Give me my alcohol!”

“Do you want to get kidnapped by a scary man as you are calling a uber all drunk?”

Callie contemplated the possibility for a moment. And then she shrugged, stealing her tequila back when Arizona wasn’t looking. “It’s okay. You’ll carry me home. I trust you.”

Arizona made a move to take the drink back, but stopped. Instead, she smiled a little and, uncharacteristically, her ears turned pink. “Fine,” she grumbled, “Drink your tequila. But not too much. Only because I’m your super reliable and fucking awesome friend.”

…

Signs flickered overhead and Arizona held onto Callie’s waist, holding her up.

“You guys gonna be fine?”

Arizona smiled politely at Mark, who was in turn, holding up his own Lexie Grey to take care of. “I’m sure, Mark. Calliope’s safe with me.”

“You know where she lives?”

Arizona opened her mouth, and then closed it hesitantly. She didn’t know where Callie lived.

Although reading her mind, Mark stumbled closer just as a cab pulled up in front of them. He ushered them on and gave the driver Callie’s address and a hard and slightly threatening look. Scary, but seemed to ensure that the little moustached man would deliver them home safely.

He stumbled away with Lexie, and just as Arizona turned around, she caught Callie in her arms, her face suddenly buried in surprisingly good-smelling hair.

“I missed you,” Callie mumbled into her shoulder, “Even if I never told anyone.”

“Me too, trust me.”

“And I talked to you…and I realised just how much I missed talking to you.”

Arizona kept her arms wrapped around her tightly, because honestly, she was sure that if she let go, Callie might just go crashing to the floor. She felt a little fluttering in her chest when Callie had spoken a few moments ago.

“But I’ve become better at adulting, Arizona.” Callie grumbled a few words she couldn’t quite make out, and then a few she _did_ make out. “I’ve grown up. I’m not the little girl you can move with a few meaningful conversations anymore.”

“I know,” Arizona said silently. “Let’s get on that cab first, okay?”

The yellow car zoomed along the streets and Callie mumbled a few incomprehensible words with her head on Arizona’s shoulder.

Arizona breathed in the night air from the rolled-down windows and felt free. It had been a nice night up to now, reconnecting with friends and stepping into a new year even though it didn’t feel like it.

She was sure they had left her loneliness and rationality behind somewhere around a corner as the cab sped along faster. She was glad they did.

…

“You moved.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a statement.

Callie had steadied herself a bit on the cab and came to her senses enough to lead Arizona up the stairs to her studio apartment.

“I did, a few months ago,” Callie replied, no longer giggling or dreamy. “But the walls aren’t painted and I’m missing a lot of furniture, and there are boxes lying around everywhere.”

Arizona chuckled quietly. “You were never the best at sorting things out.”

“Yeah. It was you that was good at this stuff.”

Her keys jingled and the door clicked open as Callie continued, “You can go now if you want, don’t feel like you’re forced to stay with me. I’m still a bit woozy, but I’m not drunk, trust me.” Jokingly, she added, “No old scary dude is going to pop out and murder me in my own house, don’t worry. Only Cristina, if she ever plans on coming back from Owen’s.”

As Arizona entered, she saw a couple cardboard boxes sitting in between the kitchen and the bed.

“Oh look, you have an actual bed!”

Callie laughed, “I do.”

Arizona walked up beside her. “Also, I don’t feel forced to stay with you. I _feel_ like staying with you.”

The smile on Callie’s face faded the tiniest bit as an equally tiny bit of surprise replaced it.

“And…” Arizona said as she gestured towards the small balcony she knew Callie always wanted to have, “Someone was talking about catching up between friends just moments ago, right?”

…

“You always did like staring at the sky and doing nothing.”

“My favourite way for friendships to form,” Callie answered.

The metal straps of Arizona’s watch have long since become cold with the night, and the carton of brightly colored orange juice standing between the two of them was strangely out of place on the rusty balcony of this old building, three floors away from the top. A single cigarette was in her front pocket, but Arizona didn’t want to take it out.

Things were strange, but the awkwardness was also managing to give way to other things.

A hand snaked its way out from under the blue blanket that Callie wrapped around herself and picked up the carton. “You want, Arizona?”

Arizona nodded, holding out the two plastic cups for Callie to fill in. She stared at the red plastic of the cups that reminded her so much of those parties that she thought was the height of coolness back in high school. That, and the fields beside the highways.

Those cups were only pieces of man-made hazards to the environment. Not unlike those parties.

“Thanks.”

Callie nodded and took one of the cups from Arizona, turning back around.

Arizona glanced at Callie from the corner of her eye before quickly taking a sip of wine and raising her head up towards the sky again. The city has stopped. They both knew better than to sit here. _Surely_ , they both knew better than this.

But Arizona still took sips too often and pretended not to look at Callie.

She wanted to laugh because she was sure Mark thought they were fucking. Or something sinful of the sort.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

She couldn’t even gather the nerve to brush her hand against Callie’s.

“Are you cold?”

Arizona glanced at Callie again. She was still not looking at her, only at the steely, stony, crescent moon hanging on top of their heads.

“Because you look like you’re going to start shivering.”

Arizona shrugged. Cold was nothing she couldn’t deal with. Callie shrugged in response too, and took another sip from her red cup. The lone lamp that hangs from the wall behind them casted a ray of light onto Callie’s neck. Arizona wanted to lick it off. And they sat there, Callie looked at the moon and Arizona looked at her. No time passed, only a pigeon that paused on the banister in front them and flew away again.

Arizona glanced at Callie once more. Her insides went over a speed bump when she saw that Callie was already looking. To her silent disappointment, Callie’s eyes dropped to her cup almost immediately.

“You look cold,” Callie murmured. Arizona raised an eyebrow even though Callie couldn’t see it, she was sure. “Come on,” she said, lifting a corner of her blanket and flapping like a child pretending to be a superhero. “We can share my blanket. I’m too lazy to go back in and get another one.”

Arizona regarded her amusedly for a second, even though she was sure she shouldn’t, and nodded. “Thanks.”

Callie smiled crookedly and held the blanket open for Arizona to join her. Sitting on the cold cement on a September night was undoubtedly not her smartest choice, Arizona thought as she got up and moved closer to Callie, but it was one certainly one that turned out very much alright. She threw her half of the blanket around herself and settled next to her, their sides pressed together like the tiniest bit of air would be some scandalous crime. This was the closest they have been in so long, and Arizona could feel Callie’s soft warmth seeping through the thin little tank top she wore. Arizona could see the place where her white shirt pressed against Callie’s bare arm, but she couldn’t feel it.

She would gladly let Callie be the last thing she touched before the sky opened up and swallowed her whole. It did always feel that way at night, that the sky was opening up and swallowing them whole in all its blank blackness.

The sky would do both of them a favour it was really to swallow Arizona. Or maybe one of the stars that litter it could fall down and crash. Or if the wind would just blow a little harder and whip her away. Something, _anything_ , should happen before she accepted the drunkenness of the night and committed to it. Before she lost the fight and passed an arm around Callie’s shoulders or Callie’s waist.

A quiet little ‘ooh’ pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Hm?” Arizona’s head swivelled around at Callie again, finding her to be looking down to the streets. “Do you want me to go?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.”

“There’s three birds sitting on that telephone wire. Make a wish.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Arizona smiled at Callie’s serious face. “A wish, huh? Aren’t I supposed to be the one with the stories for kids?”

Callie shrugged and finished off her cup. “Take every opportunity you have to make wishes, I say. It’s nice to believe in a bit of magic. You never know, right?”

“Guess so.”

“So. Make a wish.”

“Are you going to make one too?”

Callie smiled and flicked the empty cup away. “Of course.”

Arizona watched Callie as she closed her eyes and raised her head and moved her lips silently, telling her wish to the cold moon. Arizona watched for another moment, and then closed her eyes too. But as hard as she concentrated on Callie’s warmth like it was the first time she’d felt warm, as much as she forced herself to accept the cold prickling her face, she couldn’t find a wish to wish for. She cracked open an eye and peaked at Callie’s rosy cheeks, red from the chill of fall. 

“There,” Callie said quietly. She tilted her head and Arizona quickly closed her eyes again and pretended to have some grand wish for herself, moving her mouth to the rhythm of the loud beating of her heart. When she opened her eyes again, she found Callie looking at her with a happier look she had done the whole night, and she decided that faking a wish was the right choice.

“Made a wish?”

“Yup,” Arizona nodded, “Such a wish.”

“It feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Arizona couldn’t help but smile at Callie. “It did.” And at least with that, she wasn’t lying.

A comfortable relationship, no matter friendship or love or something else, was this.

It was being able to not say anything for the whole time, but also being able to say something any time in between.

At some point, she sat there beside Callie and liked the feeling of that one instance so much that she softened a little inside.

…

Arizona wasn’t sure for how long they sat there.

There were a lot of wonderful things in this world, if people took the time to slow down and really look.

It was in the ways friends say ‘oh no, I can’t find my car keys’ and then pat themselves up and down frantically as they have the key right in their hands. It was in the way restaurants had colourful candies in glass bowls and she always secretly stuffed at least four into her pockets. It was in the way people liked to mash their food holes together to express passionate emotions.

But most importantly, it was in the way a twenty-nine-year-old Callie suddenly grinned and the way it absolutely killed Arizona.

“You’re better then both tequila and porn,” Callie sighed, “God, you weren’t kidding when you said you were a good friend. It’s been such a while since I had someone who liked just sitting beside me and look at the same things I look at.”

Arizona just smiled and patted her gently on the arm.

…

Things only got better because they wanted them to.

Teddy threw a baby carrot onto Mark’s forehead. “The man-whore settling down.” She sighed. “God, the world really is turning upside-down.”

The baby carrots in the cafeteria were never very fresh anyway, it was okay. Around the table, Mark scowled and rubbed his forehead.

“And my other half is getting the moves in with McDreamy,” Cristina grumbled as she poked at her salad. “Callie and I are just getting left behind by all you shiny happy people.”

Arizona almost choked on her orange juice. “ _Hunt_ is hitting _Shepherd_ up? What the _hell_ did I miss? I’ve been back for two months!”

“Ew, no, what?” Cristina made a face. “No, no, no, oh god no. I was talking about Mer and Derek.”

“Oh.”

“Yup,” Callie said, “Mer and her are soulmates, Mer and Derek are a couple.”

“Oh. Yeah. Mhm.” Arizona nodded. “That totally explains it.”

“How ‘bout you, Callie? How you feeling?” Teddy finished bickering with Mark and turned to her.

Callie sighed into her straw. “Is horny a valid emotion? Because I’m horny.” She groaned. “Sorry, now I just sound gay and bitter. Well, bi. But gay.”

“It’s fine, we get you.”

“And I can always help you out again,” Mark offered as he wiggled his eyebrows. Another baby carrot hit his head and he yelped.

Teddy high-fived Arizona.

“Well, O’Malley is still single from what I hear,” he grumbled. “He’s cute. I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Yeah,” Cristina chimed in, “I mean, if he’s been clear about wanting to pursue you for months, he can’t be that bad of a guy, can he?”

“He can seduce you with cute and nerdy little science facts.”

Arizona snorted into her drink.

And then she looked at Callie’s thoughtful face and silently made a decision.

“Besides, you can’t survive on your coffee alone,” Teddy said, “or you’ll die young and lonely and overdosed on caffeine.”

Arizona finally piped up. “She’s right, Calliope. And you deserve something good for a change.”

…

A week later, Arizona hummed in her car. She knew Callie would love the song playing on the radio. It was a day off for most of them, and she was in the best mood she had been for weeks.

Knocking on Callie’s door, Arizona heard a muffled ‘come in’. She opened the door that wasn’t locked and found Callie sitting in the middle of the floor, head bent seemingly very uncomfortably and arms held at peculiar angles.

“Hey,” Arizona said as she walked further into the apartment, looking around confusedly, “what the hell are you looking at?”

Callie lifted her head, breaking into a smile. “Applying mascara. The mirror in the bathroom is covered in toothpaste because Cristina thought that it would be a good revenge to pull after I threw away her week-old pizza. So…” she waved a tiny pocket mirror, “I gotta use this thing.”

“Okay, gross, and also, wow, poor you. Do you want me to give Yang some boring pediatric cases? I’m sure she’ll hate it.”

Callie laughed. “No, it’s fine, don’t torture those poor children.”

“And who are you putting makeup on for?”

Callie scrambled up, blushing a little. “Well, uh, I listened to your advice, and I’m going on a date with George.” Seeing Arizona’s blank face, she added, “O’Malley. That intern that was asking me out for months.”

“Oh.” Arizona blinked. “Yeah. Uh-huh. I know who he is.”

“Hey, why did you come?” Callie quickly added, “Not that you’re not always welcome. Sorry, my thought-to-speech filter was always a bit defective.”

Arizona shook her head, trying to clear it, and chuckled. “I, uh, I was going to buy…paint. Yeah, paint.”

“Paint?”

“Yeah, to paint my, uh, walls. My apartment’s new, you know, and ever since I came back from Malawi…” She waved her hand making a face. “Anyways, you said you wanted to change something, to paint your walls too… I was wondering if you had decided? Maybe, um, I can get some for you too?”

Completely oblivious, Callie frowned. “Hmm, that’s true. I don’t know…I was thinking…grey? Or purple? Mark said dark blue, and George told me to leave it white, but I think that’s boring…”

“What?” Arizona looked momentarily offended. “No! Paint it something brighter! _Way_ brighter! Like…like light yellow? Or light pink. Or _cream_.”

“That’s an easter basket. I don’t want to live in an easter basket.”

“But you’re okay with living in a bat cave?”

“It’s edgy. It has _personality_.”

Arizona glared at Callie. “Fine. I’ll let you think about that. But hurry up now, you don’t want to be late,” she swallowed, “for your date with O’Malley.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to apply makeup without a mirror?”

“Urgh. You’re so needy.” Arizona rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “Come here, I’ll do it for you.” She still couldn’t help but smile a little bit when Callie stumbled up from her position on the floor, grumbling about her right leg falling asleep.


	7. YELLOW WALLS

_“‘We can’t ever be together,’ he finished. “But I always want to know you, even if we’re in the same room and you’re just saying hi to me over and over again, I’ll be perfectly happy. I’ll always want to be sitting across from you.”_

_\-- Adam Silvera, More Happy Than Not_

…

* * *

_JANUARY 10, 2013_

When Arizona was in college, there had been a question on one of her papers that went like ‘when and how was the moment when you felt completely and utterly alone?’

Her answer had been ‘when I take a nap in the middle of the day, and when I wake up again, it’s five in the evening because no one had woken me up. My whole head is heavy and confused and I feel forgotten by the whole world’. That was when loneliness had peaked.

…

Today, Arizona was moderately happy.

And it was absolutely garbage, because what was she supposed to do with moderate happiness?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

It had been a dozen days since Callie’s gone on her first date with George, and to what Arizona had known, they were reaching a normal, stable, and uneventful place in their…dates.

And for her and Callie, they pinched and carved their friendship into everything they still wanted out of each other. Arizona almost felt like the way she did when she was a kid with Callie; happy, wild, dumb, and talking about everything and anything, from her brother to weird rocks they found on the side of the road.

That was where her moderate happiness came from—seeing Callie looking a bit happier. And it was probably also why she was sitting on Callie’s bed right then, watching Callie scrounging her small closet for appropriate clothes for a third date.

“Does this look better?” Callie mumbled as she took out another sweater, bringing it in front of her. “Or this?” She frowned, snatching up anther one. “Or _this_?”

She plopped down onto the bed, whining, “Arizona! Help me! It’s been such a long time since I’ve actually been on dates that may lead to something!”

Arizona chuckled at Callie’s whining and patted her gently on the arm. “You’ll do great. He’ll be an idiot not to appreciate you.”

Callie let out a breath. “Right.”

Arizona bit her own lip at the word ‘he’. She shook it off and concentrated on Callie’s happy face.

“And…you know, I have a few tops you might like at my place. We can go try those on if you feel like nothing fits. Your date isn’t until after your shift this evening anyway.”

Callie looked at Arizona and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Arizona. Really.”

Arizona smiled back. “It’s no problem. This is what friends do, right?”

…

The moment when Arizona crossed Callie and George in the lobby right before they had to go on the date, she stared for a few seconds and did nothing.

And then she chuckled to herself and looked George up and down.

He had big brown eyes and he wasn’t ugly. He was taller and softer and more caring than Arizona.

But he didn’t hold Callie’s hand the way she liked to and he didn’t seem like he cared about Callie more then Arizona did.

She watched Callie leave the hospital with him, hand in hand and chattering happily.

But Arizona wasn’t surprised. George was always a good guy.

That night, she had Teddy bring over two bottles of wine and they sat there, Arizona staring at the wall and taking gulps of her white.

“Callie’s on a date.”

Teddy nodded, watching her friend.

“Callie’s on a date, and I’m happy for her. Because I’m her friend.”

Teddy nodded again.

“Callie’s on a date. With a man.”

Teddy stopped nodding and frowned. “What? What’s wrong with that? I date men.”

“You only date men.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“ _Callie_ ’s with a man.”

Teddy frowned harder and put down her bottle on the carpeted floor. “Is Callie being bisexual bothering you?”

“What? No!” Arizona quickened to defend herself. “No, no…not really.”

“I thought you guys had a thing?”

“And it was all it was. A thing.”

Teddy looked at her for a moment, and then picked up her own bottle again, taking a swig. “Okay. But I’m your friend, so I’m calling you out.” She put the bottle down and looked at Arizona in the eye. “Callie’s bi. She’s attracted to both men and women. And that shouldn’t ever be one of the reasons you didn’t go for her.”

…

After just finishing up a surgery, Cristina and Mark had stood in the stairwells somewhere in the distance. George and Callie walked out the front doors, chatting happily.

“They’re going on a date,” Cristina had said.

They didn’t look at each other. They looked into the lobby.

Mark had sighed. “People are weird. They let other people go even when they love them.”

“And some are even weirder,” Cristina had replied, “They don’t let others go even when they don’t love them.”

“We never cherish the things we get too easily, Yang.”

…

The days passed; they weren’t getting any younger.

Callie came back from the third date and talked to Arizona about it. About how George was nice, but was a little slow at times. About how George was sweet, but he was the same kind of sweet to everyone.

And then Callie came back from the fourth, and the fifth, and Arizona listened to her talk about her life, and Arizona told her about her’s.

Sometimes, it felt although something was missing with George, Callie had told Arizona, that there was a bit of this relationship he was keeping somewhere else. Maybe he was just afraid, Arizona had offered, and Callie had believed it.

And the days continued to pass, they were getting older.

Callie saw Derek and Meredith sneaking in and out of on-call rooms. She saw Cristina and Owen have some weird hide-and-seek thing going on, intense, and almost although punctured here and there with classical music.

She got to know George’s friends a bit better, even though it was awkward at times, but George promised her that he would make things work. So Callie closed her mouth and went with him, and it wasn’t until he blown her off twice only for her to find him laughing with Izzie Stevens that she decided to voice her issues.

She didn’t know since when she started to learn to close her mouth and just look pretty.

George told her it was nothing to worry about, that it was like her and Mark.

And Callie believed him. But she that didn’t mean that she didn’t worry. And she hated it, being one of those girlfriends who worry about other girls all the time.

…

It wasn’t until she had her first argument with George at the end of January, that she reached a boiling point.

It was the first time that he yelled at her and the first time that she yelled back.

She didn’t cry when he told her that she was smothering sometimes, with her constant caring.

Callie left his place, and it was also the first time that she wished she still had her trust fund, just enough to buy a car so that she could’ve gotten to Arizona’s apartment faster.

Mark was at the hospital. That was what she thought about on the ride over, that Mark wasn’t available anyway.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes and pushed the thought that George was surely off to find Izzie right about now. But she took a deep breath and she didn’t cry.

She walked up to Arizona’s door, knocked, and reminded herself to breathe.

…

Arizona found Callie standing at her door, head hung low and scrubs still unchanged, and she started worrying right away.

She forced a cup of tea down Callie’s throat before letting her talk.

“I…” Callie stopped halfway and hung her head. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Because we’re friends, Calliope. We’re friends, so that means that I’ll be here for you if you’re having a sucky day.”

“Oh yeah. A sucky day. A sucky week,” she mumbled, “urgh.”

“George?” Callie nodded. “And Izzie?” Callie nodded again.

“I mean…I get how busy interns are. We were all there once.”

“But they don’t seem busy enough to not be together all the time?”

“Yes! Izzie Stevens is everywhere— _everywhere_ , Arizona!”

Arizona swallowed the small lump in her throat and plopped down on her bed next to Callie. She gently guided Callie’s arm that was covering her face away, and suddenly, she was glad she didn’t start talking right away, because her voice surely would’ve cracked as she saw Callie’s red eyes. Callie looked at her helplessly, her eyes glazed with unshed tears. Arizona saw Callie swallowing, trying to force them down. She couldn’t bare seeing Callie this way, no matter who Callie was with, man or woman.

Arizona moved away from propping herself up by an elbow and rolled onto her back, side by side with Callie. The clean white sheets on the right side of the bed will smell a little of Callie tonight, she was sure.

“I’m sure they’re just friends, Calliope.”

Callie scowled. “Maybe. But he still seems to think she is an awful lot more important than me.”

“Don’t say that. He’d be stupid to. _Anyone_ would be stupid to.”

Callie looked unconvinced. She stayed silent for a moment, and then rolled onto her side without the sharp annoyance of her previous words. In a painfully small voice, Callie mumbled, “Is what I’m doing wrong? Am I not supposed to chase after something I want, something that I think will make me happy just because I’m the only one doing it?” She looked up at Arizona. “Am I just an idiot or do I really just don’t deserve this kind of love at all?”

For a split second, Arizona saw past the leather-jacket wearing exterior of Callie Torres.

Instead, she saw that little girl that never knew when to stop giving. That girl that was left alone by her family for who she was, who had fought teeth and nails, who had made do in a dirty basement for more than a year.

A girl who was overly confident sometimes because of that nagging insecurity.

Arizona wished she could reach inside of Callie and pull all that sadness away like a very long blue string.

Arizona pursed her lips at the word love and she shifted to look at Callie. She wanted to say so many things, but she didn’t even dare to dream the consequences. By reflex, she held out her arm and curled it around Callie’s shoulder, pulling her into herself. “You’re not an idiot. And you deserve a lot.” After thinking for a moment, she added, “You deserve a whole lot more then what… _anyone_ is able to give you right now. George will get there eventually, Cal, don’t you worry. If he doesn’t, then someone will. Sometime, somewhere, in the future.”

“How do I even know if that’s true?”

“I promise it is. You have my word. Someone is trying their hardest to be good enough for you right this moment.”

Callie sniffled. She still clung to Arizona’s shirt, and the close space still made Arizona’s heart beat too fast. “Okay. But you _promise_.”

“I _promise_ ,” Arizona said. Callie clung to her shirt and Arizona clung to the unspecified words of ‘someone’.

…

Callie didn’t cry when she had found George blowing her off again to be with Izzie. Callie didn’t cry when George yelled at her. Callie didn’t cry on the hopeless ride over.

But there in Arizona’s warm bed, nothing was wrong at all.

And she cried.

…

The hospital was hectic. Catastrophic. And everything else in between.

Really, Callie felt like she was in a soap opera sometimes.

The early February wind was freezing when she pushed into the bar and found Mark at their usual spot, waiting for her with his head hung low.

She plopped down on the stool next to him. “Tough day?”

He groaned. “Tough week.”

Callie shook her head, chuckling humourlessly and downing a shot right away. “I didn’t expect your long-lost daughter to just show up out of nowhere either.”

Mark dropped his face in his hands and rubbed it forcefully, groaning again. “I feel horrible.”

“Hey.” Callie looked at her friend and felt sorry for him. But she knew that he didn’t need her pity right now, he needed a friend. She squeezed his arm gently and pulled it off his face. “Nothing’s okay. But we’re gonna stick together, right? We’re ride or die.”

Mark grunted.

“And…” Callie continued, pausing to wave over another round for Mark, “I’ll get drunk with you while you sob over Lexie. I’m here.”

“And you? You look distant and sad too.”

Callie smiled weakly, seeing Mark still caring for her.

“So?”

“I ran out of Lucky Charms. I love Lucky Charms.”

Mark continued to look at her, waiting patiently.

“And also, things aren’t good with George.”

“Ah.”

“We haven’t had a proper conversation in two weeks and every time I see him, he’s with Izzie.”

“You know that I’ll smash his face in if he cheats, right?”

Callie tried to glare at him but it looked more like a reprimanding and sad smile. “Don’t…let’s not think of that yet.”

“Yeah.” Mark sighed again. “You’re right. Lexie leaving me just made me lose faith in all relationships.”

Callie shrugged, nodding.

“We can have a twelve-step program,” he said, passing a hand over his chin, “stop sucking spectacularly at our lives and what-not.”

“Step one, buy Lucky Charms.”

“Step-two, get our shit together.”

They stared at each other.

Mark finally shrugged, downing another shot. “It’s more of a two-step program.”

…

Once again, Callie felt like the idiot who fell too fast. She told George she loved him after they spent a rare weekend together. Now, it was Valentine’s Day and George had just called.

He was at the hospital, saying he couldn’t pull himself away.

The small table was filled with plates and a few candles, silently waiting for a dinner that wasn’t coming. Callie put her phone back on the kitchen countertop and tried not to think of Izzie Stevens.

Her phone rang and she ignored it.

She sat with her back to her small kitchen and felt empty and light and almost inexistant.

Three rapid knocks on her door startled her out of her reverie. Frowning, and hoping George had finally come to his senses, she padded across the floor.

The door swung open and Callie’s eyebrows flew up to her hairline. “Arizona?”

“Hey!” Arizona’s cheeks were red and she was slightly out of breath. “I heard George was staying at the hospital with the other interns, and I wanted to check up on you. In case, you know, you went all overthinking again.”

For a moment, Callie couldn’t get any words out. She stammered, touched and surprised anyone cared enough for doing this. “I-I-” She shook her head, clearing it. “I’m fine.”

Arizona stood there, a crease between her brows.

“Okay, I’m not fine.”

“But you will be.”

Callie fidgeted, pulling her long-sleeved polo over her hands. “Yeah. George is such a nice guy. I really think we’ll work it out.”

Arizona smiled and nodded.

“Thank you, Arizona, for being so good to me.”

“It’s nothing.” And Arizona really meant it. It was never hard to be good to Callie.

Callie stopped mid-moment as she was opening the door wider and bit her lip. “B-But, is this a good idea?”

“Me wanting to comfort a friend in a time of need?”

“No, no, not that.” Callie chewed her cheek and waved a finger between them. “Is this hypocritical of me?”

Arizona frowned for a moment before realising. “Oh.”

“Mhm.”

“He blew you off. And I’m just a friend.”

Callie was still standing, a hand on her door and barely a foot away form Arizona, who still smelled of winter and the cold wind outside. “And we both know I’ll never do that to George.”

Arizona smiled. “Exactly. Now, I’ve got alcohol. We can get drunk and whine about our sad lives.”

For the first time since her call with George, Callie smiled. “That sounds great.”

…

Arizona sat beside Callie on the floor, their backs to the couch and facing the table of fancy food Callie had prepared. She listened to Callie complaining about George and she still felt that nauseous feeling when she thought of Callie sleeping with a man, but it was less violent than last time.

“You know,” Arizona offered, clinking her bottle with Callie’s, “You should do some of that stereotypical stuff you see in shows. Burn his clothes or something.”

“Huh.” Callie thought about it for a moment.

“You have any of his boxers lying around?”

Callie thought for a minute. “Don’t people only do that when they breakup?”

Arizona was stumped for split second, but she quickly recovered and pretended to push her inexistant glasses up her nose. “Now, see, Calliope, this is so much more than that.”

“Really?”

“ _Of course_ it is. It is a way of coping with your…er, frustrations.”

“Maybe I can throw his shirts off my balcony instead of burning them?” Callie tapped her finger on her chin. “It would be less extreme, right?”

Arizona sighed. “Not the point of the experiment at all. You’re an idiot.”

Callie shrugged, giggling as she tipsily grabbed Arizona’s hand and rushing into her bedroom. She dug through her horrendously messy closet as Arizona watched with her arms crossed and a small smile playing on her lips.

She chucked George’s shirt off of the balcony, and the way Arizona looked at her was sadder than Callie even felt.

“I’m an idiot, but you’ll feed me when I’m old and still single?”

Arizona laughed. “Of course I will.” She rested a hand lightly on Callie’s back and held the screen doors open. “Now let’s get back inside before you catch a cold.”

Back inside, sitting face to face around her dinner gone cold, Arizona flicked through her phone. Arizona always knew when Callie needed silence.

And the silence stayed and passed until Callie decided to start talking.

She watched the candle flicker and cast shadows on Arizona’s old button-up shirt. She hadn’t worn it for a while now, if Callie remembered right.

Finally, she looked up and smiled at Arizona, chuckling a bit awkwardly. “I…uh,” she waved her hand to their surroundings. “I painted the walls yellow.”

Arizona raised her eyebrows.

“N-not exactly very yellow. Uh, lighter, greyer…but it was one of your suggestions!”

Arizona felt warm all over.

Arizona knew, they were nothing more than friends.

But in that moment, it really felt like love.

…

“Promise me you’ll talk to George?”

Callie looked her in the eyes and felt steadier than she’d felt in months. “I promise.”

They had gotten rid of the dinner. It was now lying in the trash chute.

“Love isn’t a word you throw around, Calliope. Only say it out loud when you know that you’re strong enough to carry the responsibilities that come with it.”

Callie nodded. “I’ll talk to George. We’ll sort things out. Or we’ll sort ourselves out first.”

“Good.” Arizona glanced at the clock on the wooden table and suddenly didn’t want the night to end so quickly. “But wait until the morning comes.”

Callie nodded again, although a bit confused. But it was fine.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t made for their kind anyway.

These weird people like them who thought midnight convenience stores were romantic.

…

Arizona knew that the attendings praised her on her change once back from Africa, especially these few weeks. They said that her perkier attitude helped her in the pediatrics department much better then her hard and unforgiving ways from before. They said that her smile was nicer to see and that her supposedly ‘soft’ character was much more pleasant to work with and talk to.

Arizona knew that this was one of the things Callie would always be better at.

Callie was one of those rare ones that continued loving and hating and living with such intensity, not giving in to getting along with everyone.

Arizona knew that all her perkiness was, was a remolding of herself into a rounder edge, to not chafe on other people’s personalities.

It was convenient, but it wasn’t very brave.

She sighed and threw the rest of her sandwich into the garbage can.

She hated sandwiches.

But it was all they had in the cafeteria at three in the afternoon.

She walked back to the pediatric department and even managed to flirt with a few nurses.

…

“I’m going on a date,” Arizona said loudly, more to herself then Callie. Who, ironically, looked more excited then Arizona. “And I have nothing to wear.” Which was true, since Arizona didn’t really care to put any other clothes then pants, jeans, shirts, and the occasional blazer in her new wardrobe. And they were all too casual or too not ‘womanly’ to put on for dates. What the heck is ‘womanly’ supposed to look like anyway?

It was the beginnings of March, and Seattle was raining more than ever.

Callie clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet. “That’s great!”

Arizona was surprised by the warm hand that took her’s, pulling her towards Callie’s small bedroom and Callie’s voice chattering, again, more to Callie herself then Arizona. “My wardrobe is my heaven, Arizona, and I will personally kill whoever that touches my babies. But I love you, so you get to borrow something.”

Arizona was too busy trying to keep her ribcage from tumbling into pieces when she heard Callie say that she loved her and all the rest of the things Callie said barely grazed her ears. “Now, do you know what kind of person she is? Sporty? Casual? Sexy? I think I have a sweater I haven’t worn yet and a couple of dresses…”

Arizona snapped out of her own plastic happiness as she stumbled into Callie’s bedroom. “I, uh, a sweater would be okay, I think. It’s getting cold and um, we’re just going out for coffee.”

“Okay, okay,” Callie mumbled to herself, already digging into her closet and throwing clothes out left and right, “Try this on with this…and give this one a go too…oh, this will look good on you!”

Arizona smiled and nodded, and tried on everything Callie threw her way because all the clothes smelled like Callie.

…

Arizona came back from the third date with a girl she was sure was called Megan, but couldn’t for the life of her remember her surname. It was a nice date.

No sex, but nice.

She’d kissed her goodnight under her apartment and called a cab. It was a strange new potential lover and strange new feelings.

And after that, somehow, she was back in her own kitchen at four in the morning, eating cheerios in purple boxers and coming to drastic realisations about Callie Torres.

She scooped the cereal straight from the bag with measuring spoons (she switched between the quarter and the half every ten minutes so that they had equal treatment). It was one of those moments of clear realization, as she afterwards labeled, her hair terribly tied in a bun that was hanging dangerously close to her left ear, that left her in a state of shock.

She loved Callie.

She really did.

Arizona was a reasonable person that always chose head before heart, and that was the only explanation that made sense.

She loved Callie and she was really fucked, because she didn’t think Callie loved her back.

…

Arizona looked down at her watch. It was five in the morning and she was certain that she was going absolutely bonkers. She pushed open the door of the twenty-four-hour pharmacy and stepped inside. Their air-conditioning was set on too high.

The cereal she had ate on her kitchen just an hour ago did not make matters better either.

She strolled around and pulled her jacket tighter around herself, shivering. These stupid stores never changed temperatures, no matter the season.

She headed straight for the small rack of postcards beside the cashiers and picked out one that wasn’t a typical shiny and ugly building.

She passed by the one other person in the store, and wondered what other sorry person was here in this lonely store with her in the middle of the night. It was a surprisingly happy-looking teenager with a gray backpack, wandering around like a tourist on some trip.

Arizona shrugged to herself.

And then she smiled, because she was sure that Callie would have said something poetically weird if she was here with her. Something like “ _this is a place where reality feels fake and the night washes away any way of grounding ourselves_ ” or “ _that shadow on the wall looks like a chicken and you’ve always liked chickens_ ”.

The middle-aged cashier with an accent looked at her judgmentally when she came forward with a postcard and two boxes of cheerios.

By the neon lights outside the pharmacy, she found a pencil the size of her thumb in her jacket. On this postcard, she wrote her latest…epiphany. Of sorts.

The pencil had a very ugly eraser that looked chewed on.

Her thin print was wobbly on the postcard, but it should do.

By the neon lights outside the pharmacy, she left the postcard under a streetlight and walked away, back towards her apartment.

By the neon lights outside the pharmacy, the sentence on the postcard was surprisingly clear.

_“If I can’t love you as a lover, then I’ll love you as a friend.”_

A gust of humid disgusting Seattle wind blew by.

By the neon lights outside the pharmacy, there was only a streetlight, with nothing underneath.

…

“Here,” Arizona handed her last charts to the nurse behind the desk. “Night, Colleen.”

The nurse took it over and Arizona grinned brightly, hiding all her fatigue behind carefully flashed dimples.

She turned around and headed towards the front doors, her step only faltering a tiny bit when she saw the pair walking in front of her.

Arizona still wondered who Callie put on makeup for, even if Callie was walking right in front of her with George’s arm around her waist. Fairy tales with easy happy endings had ceased to exist long ago.

And should it really even matter, as long as Callie was happy?

These ethical questions use up too much of her brain, and she didn’t have answers for everything. What she knew for sure, _pretty much the only thing she knew for sure_ , was that she really, really, cared about Callie.

And sometimes, that was enough too.

And some other times, she would simply snuff out the cigarette between her fingers and tell herself to just let the first half of her life be this way. There was always tomorrow.

Even if she never knew what ‘tomorrow’ could possibly promise.

And now, Callie and George were coming closer and closer.

Really, if Arizona wasn’t there for Callie, George wouldn’t even had survived two months with her. But Arizona guessed that the happiness of two people could count as more then three people turning around and around.

Fuck her dignity. She didn’t need that if it came down to the happiness of her girl.

Maybe it was because Callie was the first girl that made her want to give.

Maybe it was because Callie was the first girl that made her want to become someone better.

Maybe it was because Callie was grinning at her like a dork after she told Arizona about how she rocked her hip replacement surgery.

Arizona couldn’t make sense of the logistics of her life. These things called feelings were too complicated.

“I’m feeling tired, I just had a six-hour surgery,” Arizona said, forcing a tired grin towards Callie. “I think I’ll just go home now and sleep. For a long time.”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, of course, don’t let us keep you.”

Arizona squeezed Callie’s arm and nodded at George. The man smiled and waved at her.

Damn it.

He was always nice.

That made it so hard to hate him.

Arizona let her grin drop as soon as she turned around and walked towards her car quickly. She needed pizza and a long shower.

Of which she might never come out of.

…

Three years ago, maybe Arizona would’ve still pursued Callie. Three years ago, Arizona probably would have told Callie how she felt even when she was in another relationship.

But that was not the person she was anymore.

She was realistic. She could admit, sometimes, that other people just might be a better fit for Callie. She was choosing Callie over herself.

Maybe Arizona just had a tendency to love everything that threatened to destroy her slowly. Cigarettes, energy drinks…

…and Callie Torres.

…

Callie woke up on the first day of march before her alarm.

“I’m going to talk to George today,” Callie said by the coffee cart, almost finishing coffee in three gulps.

Mark narrowed his eyes.

“I’m going to talk to George today,” Callie repeated.

Mark slowly nodded. “Okay…good. That’s good.”

“No, don’t just say ‘good’, Mark!”

“What do you want me to say?”

Callie groaned, frustrated. “I don’t know! Say something that won’t let me chicken out again!”

Mark raised an eyebrow.

Callie groaned again, resisting the desire to pinch his arm. “There’s clearly some communication problems between us! We’re not talking much anymore, the last time we had sex was a month ago, and I don’t feel…” she sighed. “I don’t feel happy with him anymore.”

“Torres…” Mark held her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “You’re great. You deserve good things, you hear me?”

Callie nodded.

“Okay. Now,” he clapped her on the back, “walk tall. You can sort this out. If you can’t, you’ve still got me.”

…

Callie knew that she was stubborn and complicated and overwhelming sometimes. She really had walked to the intern lockers with the best intentions to talk things out for once, to lay it all out.

She strolled past buzzing nurses and patients and for a moment, she considered asking Arizona for her opinion first. But she decided against it.

She concentrated on the good times she had with George, the Friday’s they’d once wasted together, just to make sure she didn’t get angry too easily in the conversation that was coming.

She was even rehearing a small speech in her head when she walked through those doors.

But her speech-rehearsing was cut short when she saw Izzie Steven’s forehead pressed against her boyfriend’s, her lips parted.

Callie couldn’t care less about her stupid speech in that moment.

…

George saw her first.

He jerked into movement, at least taking ten steps away from Izzie with a blank look on his face.

Izzie, on the other hand, didn’t move. She only turned around and had the balls to stare at Callie.

Callie had a flammable heart.

Open and flammable, but in that moment, her chest felt tighter and colder she ever felt it be. George opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Callie beat him to it.

“You know that we’re over, right?”

George stood; mouth still halfway open, wordless for a moment. Izzie paused for a moment, then walked away wordlessly. She passed by Callie, brushing her shoulder and Callie could’ve sworn she felt her dirty smugness tainting her scrubs. Izzie was leaving the both of them to deal with their own shit without saying anything.

It was a very Izzie thing to do.

Callie was calm, scarily calm. Calmer than she thought she could be. Her conversation and speech and everything else were cleanly forgotten. “I’m sorry, George. I’m done.”

“Callie…” Callie could see him gathering his words, trying to find excuses.

She shook her head, telling him she didn’t want to hear his feeble explanations.

“Callie…It was a fluke. It was never going to happen.”

“You and I both know that you’re lying.”

“Callie,” he repeated, looking at her with his big eyes. “No. Don’t do this. W-We can get married if that’ll prove just how much I love you.”

“ _George_ —”

“I-I can go buy rings tonight and everything!”

Callie put a hand on his arm. “George!”

He stopped talking so quickly and looked at her again, this time with fear and regret. “I love you, Callie, I really do.”

In that moment, Callie really understood him. His mind was somewhere else, but he was too scared to let go of the one good thing he already had. She heard him telling her he loved her and suddenly, her calmness almost faltered.

But she wasn’t going to cry, not in front him. He didn’t deserve her vulnerability anymore.

“George, listen to yourself.” Callie’s voice trembled, but she steadied it. “Last week was my birthday. And it was the first time in two months that you didn’t blow me off. We sat in my apartment while Cristina had an overnight shift and you bought me that cake and lit the candles for me, you remember?”

He nodded.

“And I closed my eyes and wished that you could be everything I ever wanted in a lover, because that was how much I was into this. When I opened my eyes, you were checking your phone. And I asked you what it was.”

George nodded again, not meeting her eyes anymore. He knew where this was going.

“Izzie had her first appy that day, didn’t she?”

He nodded again.

“You told me that it was just a work email and then you put your phone away. And I believed you. So, what I’m asking for the last time is that,” Callie watched his lashes tremble and still, he refused to look at her. “When I closed my eyes, were you wishing that you’d be able to spend the rest of my birthdays with me, or were you worrying about how well Izzie’s surgery had gone?”

George slowly shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment.

Callie sighed softly. “We’re over, George. You knew it before I did.”

…

Why would Callie break up such a good relationship?

George was a good man. He was thoughtful and caring and respectful. He accepted her bisexuality with no hesitation.

Was it only because of one almost-kiss, one that couldn’t even count as a real infidelity, he had with his best friend?

No, of course not.

What pushed Callie to break up with George despite the skeptics of the gossip that floated around was never that, even if that counted was the last straw.

It was because George had inserted too many moments with someone else into the cracks of their relationship. His heart was already somewhere else, his care was already split in half for Izzie, and the person he wanted to talk to first about a good surgery wasn’t Callie anymore.

Because Callie tried to be a good girlfriend everyday. But George’s love, his patience, his gentleness, all the things Callie had to fight for were the things that another woman could so easily get.

He didn’t cheat on her, but there were shadows of Izzie Stevens in every thing he did. Callie had once considered marriage when George’s father died because she had thought that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She wasn’t going to marry George because of tradition or because ‘it was time’ or because he was the best choice she could have.

Callie didn’t want to marry a man that was trained into a relationship by another woman.

…

What Arizona didn’t write on her paper after writing about loneliness was this:

_You wake up after that nap, lonely and forgotten by the world, but if you’re still thinking about a certain person right away, then you shouldn’t hesitate;_

_You really love them._

…

They were so empty, so endlessly chasing feelings.

Maybe the best anyone could wish for anyone else in this big and unforgiving world could only be so much. Maybe liking someone could sometimes only be an obvious favoritism from time to time.

Maybe the fall for Callie could only mean that Arizona would work crazy hard for to grant her a happy ending. Not _them_ , just Callie.

And maybe that was all this time of mess and booze and money could allow her to do for any special person.

To grant them their own happy ending.

At least, that was what Arizona was thinking about in her office up until Callie knocked on her door and told her about George.

After that, she just wanted to punch the man in the face.


	8. NIGHT SHIFT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i need caffeine.

**_MARCH 2, 2013_ **

“You know…on my third date, you told me that he’d be an idiot not to appreciate me.” Callie stared at the wall and sighed. “But I…”

“No,” Arizona interrupted, “This is in no way you are completely at fault here.”

“But he—”

“Yeah, I know. I said he’d be an idiot not to appreciate you, but I didn’t know he actually _was_ such an idiot.”

The corners of Callie’s mouth pulled downwards and Arizona quickly said, “But it’s okay. This just leaves you free for better people. Trust me.”

Arizona exhaled when she saw Callie relax a little.

She was the most inapproachable person ever when she was in her residency, and Callie brought back that feeling. She knew that she was ever only bubbly or smiley or every other thing she was now when Callie was around. And even the most rational and put-together person like her was at a lost to what to do when the person they cared about needed comforting.

She was crap at comforting people.

But forcing her hands to loosen and to treat Callie with gentleness, she walked her to the resident lockers and told her that it would be alright.

Walking back down the hallways without Callie, Arizona clenched her teeth.

She was here screwing herself over trying to be good enough for her, but Callie was letting another man upset her so badly.

It wasn’t even that Arizona was ever cautious in relationships. Callie was just different. Like religion for an atheist.

Arizona just didn’t dare touch Callie without care, or she felt although she was violating some terrifying romance.

Out of nowhere, she kind of wanted to cry.

Cry at the way someone so precious and untouchable for her could matter so much less to someone else.

…

Arizona marched to the coffee cart and bought a coffee, trying to calm herself.

“I heard Callie broke up with O’Malley.”

Arizona raised her head and saw Cristina tapping her fingers against the wood, giving cash to the man behind the counter.

“Wow. Word does travel quick around here.”

“Yeah, well,” Cristina shrugged, “it does. And it also helps when Callie just got called into the ER on a bus crash and she looked way too depressed for dozen broken legs.”

“Ah.”

Cristina sighed, and Arizona cleared her throat a little uneasily, not used to talking one-on-one with Cristina.

Arizona opened her mouth to continue the pleasantries, but stopped just as they walked into the ER.

Instead of continuing their conversation, she snapped up her head and stuffed her coffee into Cristina’s fumbling hands, “Here. Hold my morals.”

“Wha—”

Arizona moved past her. “I’ve got shit to take care of.”

Faraway, she could see George talking to Izzie in a low voice, on the other side of the ER.

She crossed the floor and came to a stop right beside him. “O’Malley.”

George turned his head and his eyes widened a little bit. Arizona was almost sure that it was because her ‘resident’ face was back on. She didn’t care enough to tweak her calmness back on at the moment.

Izzie nudged George and he flicked his eyes back and forth before saying, “If this is about Callie, we already sorted it out between the two of us.”

“I know.”

“Okay. Well. Yeah. We’re over. There’s not much more to say of it.”

“I know,” Arizona repeated coldly, “I’m just here to scare you.” She handed him the small pile of charts that was tucked under her arm. “These are for tomorrow or you won’t see the inside of an OR until May.”

Arizona moved closer to George’s nervous face. “And don’t _ever_ — _and I mean ever_ —think it’s okay to hurt her just because she loved you.”

George swallowed.

Arizona scowled, her voice low and more menacing than he’d ever heard it be. “Her feelings towards you are _never_ good reasons to hurt her and get away with it.” She poked a finger on his chest. “Because I’ll be here. Making sure you don’t.”

She turned on her heel and walked away.

She knew that wasn’t right. That was not very professional to be let happen in the hospital, and she was probably going to be reprimanded by the chief if George decides to rat her out.

She wasn’t blameless.

But Arizona wasn’t completely at fault either.

Because, when it came down to it…

Arizona was only a person, helplessly loving another.

…

Behind the curtains of bed number five, Cristina finished Arizona’s coffee happily as she gloated in front of Meredith’s face.

“Oh, stop it with your smug face,” Meredith grumbled as she stuffed twenty bucks into Cristina’s outstretched hands.

…

Arizona was sitting with her back to the cold wall on a gurney when she found Callie hurrying her way.

Sitting up, she smiled at Callie’s messed up hair, obviously just being freed from a scrub cap. “Hey, are you feeling better?”

Callie stopped, a grateful smile on her face. “Yeah, yeah. Surgery keeps my mind off of my tragic love life.”

“Oh come on, it isn’t that tragic, right?” Arizona made a face, trying to make her laugh. “It’s just a bit…unfortunate?”

Callie chuckled, and Arizona smiled too. “Yeah, sure, it’s whatever. Um, listen, I heard the interns talking about you threatening George and giving a crap load of charts?”

Arizona looked away sheepishly. “I didn’t threaten him. I _talked sternly_ to him.”

“Thank you. Truly, Arizona.”

Arizona looked back at her. “It’s nothing. Really.”

Callie tilted her head and smiled sadly, and Arizona repeated, “It’s nothing.”

“Thank you,” Callie mumbled again, looking down, “But you don’t need to feel like you’re obligated to take my side. I know how complicated the relationships get in our hospital. You don’t need to get yourself tangled in.”

Arizona smiled. She was tangled deep enough already. “I’m your friend.” _Even if never anything more._ “So I’ll never be there to be the judge of anything or there just to settle all your breakups.”

“Don’t feel like you always have to take care of me and take my side. Really. I mean it. It’s okay.”

Arizona chuckled, shaking her head. “No, Callie, you don’t get it. I…kind of, probably, definitely, always will.” She sighed. “Take your side.”

…

When Arizona told her that, smiling on her old gurney, Callie felt security.

This was the person that stood beside her from when she lost her first patient to their ridiculously drunk new year’s parties. Arizona had seen her hair long, then short, then growing long again. Arizona spent Valentine’s day with her when her boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

Callie felt safe here, with Arizona smiling at her.

Maybe side by side was better than hand in hand, sometimes.

But before Callie could tell Arizona thank you, her pager buzzed for the millionth time that day and she groaned.

“Nine-one-one to the ER. Another rig is coming in.”

Arizona reached over and squeezed her arm comfortingly. “Go be awesome.”

Callie was already hurrying down the long hallway, and she smiled gratefully as she turned her head to look at Arizona’s caring expression one more time.

…

After surgeries, the scrub rooms smelled like something bloody, cracked down the middle and drowning in cleaning alcohol. It stung at Callie’s light intake of breath when George stepped in there with her, looked her in the eye and said, “There’s nothing wrong with being wrong for each other.”

Callie stared at him. George looked back, once again the gentle man he was before they spiraled down into failed relationships. He looked back, looking just like a man who wanted some closure.

“I think we had a good run and…for the record…” George paused, picking at his intern scrubs, “I think we both knew, even if only deep down, that we weren’t ever able to be endgame.”

Callie frowned. “That just sounds bad when you say it that way. It just sounds like we were both just having this relationship for fun.”

“Okay. Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Callie nodded and didn’t answer.

George looked up and said, “Tell me about Arizona Robbins.”

Callie seemed skeptical, frowning again. “Why?”

“Just,” he shrugged, “tell me about your friendship. I just need to know…” he paused, pursing his lips the way worryingly the way that made her feel safe months ago, “that someone is there for you because I know I can’t be anymore.”

“Okay. Um.” Callie thought about the afternoons they spent laughing and talking and sharing one beer back and forth. “Arizona…is nice.”

He bobbed his head, telling her to go on.

“We always have things to talk about, even if at the end, I have no idea what we talked about. She lets me walk on the inner side of the street when we’re walking together, she…knows to bring me coffee on Wednesday mornings because I hate Wednesdays…”

George waited patiently, a small sad smile on his face.

Callie continued, lost in her own thoughts. “She likes to send me pictures of the sky when it’s pretty. And um…oh, whenever I crash at her place, she always falls asleep after I do, because I never remember to close the windows. So she waits until I’m asleep to get up and close them.”

George nodded when Callie looked back at him. “Okay then.”

“Okay then,” she repeated.

“I wish you the best, Callie.”

Callie sighed and nodded. “You too.” She pushed open the door of the scrub room and walked away, holding her breath until she arrived in the busy ER again, bustling with people she still had to take care of on this shift.

…

Arizona’s office glowed in the dark hallways of the midnight hospital. These places were where horror movie murder scenes tend to happen.

But Arizona got tired after midday these days, and she didn’t have the energy to be scared. She knew Callie and her fellow residents were still in the pit, the emergencies pouring in since that afternoon.

Trudging slowly down the narrow paths lined with towel racks and unused patient rooms, she threaded her arms through the sleeves of her jacket. The heels of her street clothes were high enough to make her feel greater than she was. 

For the few hours that melted afternoon into evening, Arizona had stayed by her desk, doing boring paperwork. She told herself that it would serve as a way of calming herself down after Callie and George’s breakup, even though it was their breakup and had nothing to do with her.

Almost out of nowhere, the dark hallways gave in all over again to a bustling hurriedness of hospital emergencies, blood bags, and busy nurses. The lights were brighter and patients were laughing and phones were ringing, and it wasn’t at all almost ten in the evening.

Arizona sighed, thanking god that her navy scrubs were already left behind, and pressed the ‘down’ button. Tucking her hands into her pockets again, she stared absentmindedly at the blinking lights reciting floors of which her elevator passed through. She groaned inwardly as the elevator dinged and stopped. All she was praying for was a fast and direct descent to the parking lot, and then straight to her cramped apartment. Was that so much to ask?

A nurse walked in, followed by a tall woman with very dark hair. Arizona did not have time to appreciate or even just eye either of them up and down. She just half-closed her eyes and tried to will the doors shut and for the elevator to just teleport her home.

The doors dinged and before she could speed off, a voice interrupted.

“Oh my god, Arizona, thank god, an attending.”

Arizona’s eyes widened as a severely sleep-deprived Callie Torres stumbled towards her holding three different charts.

“I have a man with his tibias in a knot—don’t even ask how it happened—and I have to get to the OR in five minutes, can you please, please, please, take these charts and give one to Grey and take a look at bed three? I think the child is only suffering from a mild allergy but we haven’t checked her throat yet, so there’s that—”

Arizona was tired.

Arizona was just going to go home and make herself a very unhealthy dinner and fall asleep watching Friends reruns.

Arizona also knew that this was Callie.

Arizona took a deep breath and steadied herself.

“Yeah, of course. No problem, Calliope, go do your thing.” Arizona rolled up her sleeves and took over the charts, tucking a strand of hair behind Callie’s ear as she did. “Go do your surgery and take a nap afterwards. You look like you really need it. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Callie looked close to tears. “Oh, thank you so much Arizona, it’s been a crazy night in the ER.”

Arizona smiled and nodded, gently shooing her away.

After she watched Callie’s retreating form, she sighed. Guess this was going to be another long night in the ER.

…

Arizona scrubbed, staring at the fraying corners of the operating table and wondered why Callie couldn’t, for the life of her, see just how much she cared.

It was probably the noisy ER and the bustling of all the interns and residents, lacking sleep and scratching their way to the top. It was probably the bustle of the hospital that stopped Callie from seeing just how much Arizona cared.

It wasn’t Callie’s fault; it was the noisy bustle’s fault.

“Arizona, weren’t you supposed to be home right about now? You alright?”

Arizona turned to find Teddy standing at the door. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. It’s just that…the ER is busy as hell and I stayed to help out on a few cases.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm. Also, a certain idiot is somehow really blind and she can’t seem to see the way I care.”

“Is it Callie?” Teddy frowned the slightest bit when Arizona nodded yes. “This thing you have with her…”

Arizona shrugged. “I think I’m lowkey always gonna have a thing for that idiot.”

Arizona lifted her hands and stepped around the sink, into the OR. She held out her hand and received her scalpel, and the moment she cut into the stomach of the little girl, she felt steady.

…

In her closet, there were still old jeans and button-up shirt two sizes too big, but Arizona didn’t wear them anymore.

Walking through the hospital all over again at six in the morning, Arizona’s street clothes have turned into sensible pants and blouses. She locked her office door and jingled her keys.

On her right arm, a nicotine patch.

Arizona didn’t like to think that Callie had ‘tamed’ her, as the way Teddy put it sometimes. Rather, she thought that it was more of her closing her mouth and hiding her claws willingly when Callie was around.

Richard had complimented her on her pleasant and bubbly presence two hours ago, again.

There was this irking constant warmness untangling itself from her insides and reaching out with grasping fingers, reaching towards Callie.

But Arizona was a realistic person. She always acted in rationality.

Callie and her, they were not the same. She was so terribly scared of falling for someone so helplessly, for the first time in her life.

She was scared that she didn’t have much to give to Callie.

Arizona was barely used to all the work an attending had. She never quite remembered when to pay the phone bill and rarely ate food that wasn’t takeout. All Arizona was, was half a doctor that ground her teeth when she lost a child and cried irresponsibly when she talked to the chief. All Arizona was, was yet another young human that was getting a little too old for crazy love stories, with nothing much to give, and a very long and steady life to live.

Arizona paused as she passed by the NICU window, the rows of babies giving an occasional soft gurgle on the other side. Unconsciously, she smiled, and felt closer to them since a long time. Wandering into the NICU, she wiggled her finger in front of a ridiculously happy looking baby girl and chuckled when she waved her chubby hand at her.

Love songs were nice to listen to and old films were appropriate to get emotional to.

But the good drinks at bars were never very cheap, although Arizona couldn’t even afford to be pretentiously sad without working hard enough.

The dial tones of the number that she’d stared for so long was laughing at her. Laughing at Arizona as everything else was too.

Memories were fisted in her cold palms. The realism of this could go eat shit.

Arizona hated this feeling.

…

“ _You guys did WHAT NOW with the Alzheimer’s trial_?!”

Meredith and Cristina both had the decency to look minimally sheepish.

Cristina cleared her throat. “Well, in my defense, I didn’t do anything, I just refrained from tattling on Mer.”

Meredith made a face. “It was for a…good cause.”

“ _Was it_??”

“It…” she didn’t look so sure anymore. “ _was_?” Meredith grunted, crumbling down on Callie’s carpet. “Whatever. I lost my job anyway and my boyfriend isn’t talking to me.”

Callie sighed, passing a hand over her eyes.

Cristina sighed too, looking at her friend on the floor, her back to Callie’s bed and her head tipped upwards, eyes closed.

In a low voice, Meredith spoke up again. “And Webber lost the conjoined twins’ surgery in Boise. They gave the surgery to Seattle Pres.”

Cristina’s eyes widened. Apparently, she didn’t hear about that part when Meredith got fired that afternoon.

“Oh yeah. Robbins and Shepherd’s going to be even more pissed.”

“How bout Lexie?”

“Lexie?” Meredith grunted again. “She’s been mourning over Mark the past month.”

“That’s not good.”

“Nope,” Meredith answered, popping the ‘p’, “it really isn’t. “The good thing is that I think Mark is making doe eyes at her too.”

“Well, absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that,” Callie said.

Cristina scowled. “Absence doesn’t ever make the heart grow fonder. Absence makes the heart grow the fuck up.”

Callie shrugged. “Yeah, that too.”

Almost in unison the three of them dropped their heads on the side of Callie’s mattress again, staring up at the ceiling.

Finally, Callie groaned and rubbed her temples. “You know what? You guys and messed up our hospital and I’ve just broken up my first serious relationship since Erica last week.” She walked to her kitchen. “I’m thirsty.”

“Oh my god yes,” Cristina rushed, “Get us some tequila so I won’t start blaming Meredith too.”

Meredith glared at her. “Wow, thanks, Cristina. Supportive.”

She shrugged. “Well. You did a bad thing. But you and me, we’re ride or die.”

“Okay, okay, you two shut up,” Callie said as she walked back with tequila and twizzlers, “I don’t need to be third wheeling in your weird friend-lover relationship. Just drink.”

They rolled their eyes, but both simultaneously reached out their hands for the bottle.

…

The tip of the pencil broke under pressure and smeared the charts with grey streaks.

Arizona grunted and threw it across the room and leaned back into her chair, covering her eyes with the hand that was not in a fist.

Mark was sitting half sunken into her office couch, legs spread and beard unshaven and a slice of pizza in his hand.

Arizona peaked through her fingers after a few seconds. “Sloan, you should really start getting your shit together. I’m pissed that we lost the Boise surgery too, but we’ve got lives to live and lives to save.”

“Says you who just broke her pencil for the fifth time today,” he grumbled.

Arizona rolled her eyes.

Mark looked at her from the side of his eye. “I saw Avery kissing Lexie last night.”

“And why are you telling me about it again?”

“Callie has her own breakup going on and Derek has enough on his plate with the trial.”

“So I’m your last choice?”

He pushed his greying hair back and sat up straighter. “You know, under my extremely hot exterior that women drool over, is a kind and friendly soul.”

Arizona snorted. “Sloan. Seriously.”

Mark blinked at her, deflating a little. “I’m dirty hot and the golden boy of the hospital.” He looked away. “I just need someone to talk to.”

Arizona sighed, opening her drawer and taking out another pencil. She glanced at Mark munching on the pizza that Callie had originally brought over for her that afternoon.

Before she could open her mouth, Mark beat her to it. “And I see how good you are to Callie.”

Arizona’s eyes widened, her hand freezing mid-writing.

Mark snorted. “Please, don’t look so surprised. No one’s been that good to her in a long time. I should thank you, actually.”

“I-uh,” Arizona cleared her throat, “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” He sighed, stuffing the rest of his slice in his mouth. “What are we going to do? Both our girls clueless.”

Arizona stared at her papers for a moment, then grunted. “You depress me now.” She held out her hand. “Give me a slice.”

Mark handed her a slice and they both chewed in silence.

“I’d still rather be separating two conjoined twins.”

“Webber said you were too inexperienced anyway. You’ve only been an attending for year. This is a world-class surgery,” Mark murmured through a mouthful of pepperoni.

“Shut up.”

“Fine.”

…

It was only until a week later when Richard got up on the stair case and told everyone the horrible news that Arizona and Mark stopped moping around over conjoined twins.

Seattle Pres was a mess, from what they heard, with their people gone missing for three days.

Turns out that they were lucky to have missed that plane to Boise.


	9. ROMANTIC COMEDY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's getting close, guys, it's getting close, patience. i'd like to think of my story as a passive-aggressive love letter to canon, fixing all the things they did wrong and dealing with the problems they left unsaid before calzona is officially together. which is also why there is a bit more work stuff in this one. i think callie's small monologue at the end of the chapter resumes the way i want their getting-together to feel like.
> 
> anyway, trust the journey and enjoy!

_“‘No one talks so wonderfully as you do.’_

_‘Ah! I have talked quite enough for to-day,’ said Lord Henry, smiling, ‘All I want now is to look at life. You may come and look at it with me, if you care to.’”_

_— Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray_

* * *

**_APRIL 1, 2013_ **

_…_

“What the fuck,” Arizona whispered softly, and with a lot of emotion.

Glancing around the crowd gathered beneath the staircase, Callie saw the blank looks of somber realisations dawning on everyone else.

Richard continued with his speech nonetheless. “We are taking in a quarter of all Seattle Pres cases for now, due to their grieving staff.”

One dead, one in the ICU, and one with an amputated leg, that was what they had heard of. Whisperings of ‘I almost took a job there’ went around the nurses.

“Lastly,” he cleared his throat, “I am officially stepping down from chief of surgery. Doctor Hunt will be taking place as interim chief as we figure out the exact logistics. Thank you everyone, you may go on with your work now.”

Another ripple of much louder comments rose from the audience and Callie glanced towards Meredith. She was desperately avoiding eye contact with everyone. She was back in her scrubs, back as a resident.

Not jobless anymore.

It wasn’t hard to guess what the chief had done.

Richard motioned slowly with his hands, looking tired.

When Callie stopped looking at Meredith, she met Arizona’s stunned gaze. She saw Cristina running off with Meredith before any of the other residents could swarm up around them, so she took Arizona’s hand too.

They hustled down the corridor, back to the underground tunnel with crusty gurneys, where plane crashes wouldn’t hurt them.

…

The empty tunnel was eerie with dim glows of those flashy neon lights nailed to ceiling corners. Being alive felt so much more prominent when they knew that there were others that weren’t.

Arizona fiddled with her watch endlessly, neither of them saying anything.

Callie was glad they were each other’s first choice to go to when they were panicked. The plane crash could’ve happened to Arizona, and Callie knew that she should have felt guilty, but all she felt was relief.

She supposed she wasn’t a very good person for thinking that.

Arizona lowered her hand, apparently satisfactory with how her watch was now, and caught Callie’s eye. Callie looked away, feeling a lingering heat creep up to her cheeks, like she had been caught red-handed on a crime-scene. She was feeling like her truest self, with the cement of the steps digging into her back. Raw and over-feeling and having left her arrogance somewhere at the ground floor.

“This sucks.”

Callie sighed. “It does. Big time.”

Arizona kept her gaze pointed in front her, not looking at anywhere but the little corner of a wall. She was never good at talking about her problems anyway.

“Nothing’s okay,” Callie said, “But we are. We’re okay.”

“I wish I knew you earlier.”

Callie turned to Arizona again, stunned and red-faced. That was completely out of nowhere. 

“Me too.” She paused. “I hope you are happy to be in my life.”

“I am. I’m really happy.”

Callie looked at Arizona and Arizona looked back. It was a silent back and forth of things they knew they could not say, and things they were not sure if they were thinking of at the same time.

It had been a month since Callie found George about to kiss Izzie. She didn’t stay in touch, although she supposed maybe they could’ve made good friends, her and George. It was through the rumour mill that she heard that George and Izzie gave a try at their thing, and failed.

She continued to look at Arizona and felt like it didn’t really matter.

Callie was lit into flames with the same black lighter Arizona used to light her cigarettes, and her ribs were breaking apart one by one, and then reassembling all at once to fit Arizona into her chest.

Callie swallowed self-consciously, wanting to tear away from this intensity, but not being able to. “What are you thinking about?”

Arizona regarded her for a moment more, and then looked away and rested her head on the wall behind them, next to Callie. “It’s a secret.”

“What kind of secret?”

Arizona shifted barely noticeably closer to Callie. “I can’t say. If I talk about it, I’ll get sad. So it’s a secret.”

“Will you tell me someday?”

Arizona didn’t answer for a few seconds, and Callie had to glance to her right to check if Arizona was okay. Her blonde hair rested in a pretty mess around her face, and she was still staring at the grimy ceiling. “Maybe. I would like to think so,” she said eventually, “and I certainly hope so.”

“This is _already_ feeling kinda sad.”

“Everything’s kinda sad these days.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“We sound so fucking pretentious right now.”

Callie laughed, and inhaled sharply as her hand brushed against Arizona’s. “Yeah, well,” she said in a small voice, “everyone always does too.”

A bout of silence followed the everlasting comfort, and it was nice. Callie wasn’t ever one to feel this peacefulness in silence, and she never searched for it. But she found this little moment of comfortable silence, and she loved it so much.

She left her hand just barely brushing Arizona’s, and her heartbeat was thumping in her ears and throwing itself against her ribcage. Arizona was right beside her, sharing the same damp air in her lungs, but it felt like Callie couldn’t reach her at all.

And it was killing her.

So she kept sitting there in silence until she felt a little better.

And somewhere along the way, she found herself holding Arizona’s hand. It was comforting. Tying her down to the present. Like an escape these dramatic tragedies.

Which was kind of stupid when Callie thought about it again because they weren’t their dramatic tragedies anyway. Seattle Pres was suffering so much more.

And if it led to her hand in Arizona’s, then maybe it isn’t really that tragic anyway.

…

The sun spilled in neat lines down to the floorboards and the cold wall was hurting their backs.

Faint conversations sounded through the thin walls and the smell of cleaning alcohol brooded over everything. Callie’s hand was soft and warm.

In this moment, at least in this moment, Arizona would have liked to be someone without any ambitions or dreams.

Arizona would have been happy sitting there uncomfortably until they were both old and wrinkly.

The faint conversations kept speaking, and the world kept turning.

And Arizona was okay even if Callie wouldn’t ever love her back.

…

Out of nowhere, Callie sneezed.

And then she sneezed again. She lifted a hand and felt her own forehead. 

Arizona raised an eyebrow.

“I think I have a cold. Or a fever. Or something.”

“I think you do too.”

…

“Okay, now, raise your hands above your head.”

It was confirmed, Callie somehow caught a cold and ran around with a light fever for the rest of the day. She guessed it was because she went out on her balcony in the middle of the night to stare at the sky again.

It was one of things she had thought she’d gotten rid of when she was nailing that whole ‘adult’ thing, but oh well. The only inconvenience was the occasional sneeze and runny nose.

Arizona worrying and wanting to show up to her apartment with an entire drug store in her car right after her shift certainly counted as a slight inconvenience, but it was one that made Callie feel warm all over. Still, she was scolded by Arizona to not have taken a day off (she was a resident and no way in hell was she going to miss a single day and let Cristina take the lead).

In the end, she convinced Arizona to just come over with soup and no banana bags or excessive cough syrup after their shifts.

Callie raised her outstretched fingers above her head as Arizona told her to. Her nose itched from the light cold.

“Straighten your arms.”

Callie giggled and Arizona grinned wider. She liked it when Callie giggled. Because Callie never giggled. It was something private that only she got to have.

“I look stupid,” she said, mock-glaring at Arizona.

“Oh, shut up and keep doing my thing,” Arizona retorted, “Fist your hands now.”

Callie grumbled out a last complaint, but did as she was told.

“Okay, fist your hands.”

“I already did that.”

“Now open your hands again.”

Callie did so.

“Now close them again.”

Callie followed skeptically.

“Now open them again.”

Callie did as she was told.

Arizona threw her head back and laughed. “Congratulations,” she said, chuckling, smiling so much that her eyes were only small cracks. “You just set off two fireworks for yourself, above your own head.”

“Oh my god, _that_ was the super-secret recipe you used to cure sick kids?”

Still laughing, Arizona lifted her eyebrows at her. “Well, it made you feel better, didn’t it?”

Callie rolled her eyes, unable to stop her own chuckles either. Her nose did feel less blocked after that.

It was a sunny afternoon and Callie usually hated days that were too clear.

But she was laughing hard with Arizona on her couch, and she liked it.

Callie didn’t know what this fragile thing was between her and Arizona, but she never was as slow as they believed her to be. She knew this was something new, something silly and light and good between them, and it took her some time, but now she saw it.

Maybe they were only kids disguised as adults, afraid to love and to give. And for the moment, seemingly, it was enough.

She loved the way Arizona’s thin, spidery, cursive looked next to her own loopy handwriting that never went in straight lines unless there were lines on the paper. She loved the way Arizona could play the guitar, even if she used cheats to remember the chords, but couldn’t sing for crap. She loved the way Arizona would push her hair back from her face when she cut it to chin length again. She loved the way Arizona brought band-aids everywhere she’d go, as though she knew how clumsy Callie was since before they had even met.

She even loved the way she absolutely hated Arizona cracking her knuckles, and sticking her hand out for Callie to crack them just to annoy her. And she was okay with it. Callie was pretty okay with a lot of things these days, and she enjoyed a lot more things than she used to. She was happy now. At least, as happy as she believed she could be.

In a slightly nasally voice, Callie proposed, “You want dinner?”

She got another glare from Arizona. “I didn’t bring over soup for nothing. I’m making dinner. You eat your soup.”

Grumbling, Callie reached over to the coffee table and ate her soup.

…

The next week, Callie finally got back to the hospital with a spring in her step and looking happier than she did in a long time.

She found that once someone started paying attention to all her emotions and needless whining, those emotions came out so much easier.

After all, being on the receiving end of favouritism was always the best thing in any kind of relationship.

Smiling, she walked to her ER bed and sat down beside the worried looking old lady chatting into a phone. “Hello,” Callie greeted, glancing down at her chart, “Miss…Donahue! I’m Doctor Torres, and I’ll be tending to your broken arm today.”

“Oh!” The lady smiled with a little quiver to her lips, putting down her cellphone, “Thank god. My son was just starting to worry about—hey, you know what, here,” she said as she pushed her phone at Callie, “would you explain to my son that it’s nothing to worry about, please?”

Callie chuckled, leaning closer to the pixelated screen. “Hello? Hi, um, your mom has some broken bones in her forearm, but uh, we’re gonna put some small metal plates in, and then she’ll be discharged tomorrow.”

The lady’s grey-white hair bobbed up and down as she leaned back, continuing to chatter through the phone. Callie went back to the forearm under her care and hummed a little song to herself as she worked.

…

“Henry Stamm,” Owen said, fiddling with the instrument in his hands, “Seventy-five, fell down a flight of stairs on a cruise ship before it left the dock.” Handing the instrument off to Cristina, he continued, “He has a couple of broken ribs and we’re waiting for the abdominal C.T. results.”

Cristina skimmed over the paper she had in her hands, and cut in, “I don’t think he fell as much as passed out.”

“That bad, doc?”

“You have what’s called a sick sinus syn—”

The old balding man cut her off before she could go any further, staring off into the distance, completely unaware of the medical jargon Cristina continued to say. “Doctor…”

Cristina stopped, frowning a bit annoyingly.

“Doctor…I think you might have to check my head too.”

“Does it still hurt?”

His voice trembled even more than usual as he opened his mouth again. “I-I…I think I’m seeing a ghost.”

Cristina frowned even harder, looking up at Owen only to see him giving her a little shrug, nodding towards the gurney passing by a few feet away.

Simultaneously turning their heads around, Cristina caught sight of the old lady looking as pale as Henry just as he called out, “Betty?”

Callie looked up from writing in the chart in her hands when the lady in her gurney suddenly sat up.

“Betty! It’s Henry! Henry Stamm!”

“Henry?” The old lady sat up from her pillows, a surprised look hovering over her features, holding out her hand to stop her gurney. Callie looked from Betty to Henry and then to Cristina, who looked as lost as she was. “Henry Stamm? Oh my god!”

“Betty Flynn!” The old man looked almost although he was about to giggle, his eyes disappearing in a cloud of delighted wrinkles.

“Oh, but I’m Betty Donahue now,” she replied, a crinkled smile spreading across her face as well, although a little sadly.

“You married Mike Donahue?”

“Oh yes, may he rest in peace.”

“And you?” She asked, eyes sparkling as they continued their conversation across the floor, not caring for the confused doctors around at all. “Oh, h-how is Irene?”

“She died. Ten years ago this august.”

“Oh I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Henry chuckled, absentmindedly swatting away the hand that Cristina was reaching out to examine his ribs again. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just a little fall.”

Cristina gave a light scowl and waved her hand. “Shouldn’t we, um, shouldn’t we keep this area clear for emergencies?”

“Ah, but we haven’t seen each other in half a century, miss!”

“Oh, then even more reason for you to wait a little longer for your catch up!”

Owen gave her a reprimanding look. “Yang.”

“She’ll be in room thirty-one-twenty-eight,” Callie cut through, smiling, “Okay?”

As they rolled Betty away, vaguely, Callie could hear the old man chuckling and muttering to himself behind her. “Betty Flynn!” he exclaimed, to Cristina’s dismay, “O-Oh my god…Betty Flynn! Who would’ve thought!”

…

Arizona stared at the little girl tied to the small bed and passed a hand over her eyes. By her side, Alex Karev had his arms crossed around his chest, an unreadable expression on his face. Faintly, she could still hear the girl whispering to herself, “I’m not crazy…I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy…”

“Good job back there Karev,” she finally said, lifting her head and giving him an approving nod. “You saved her life.”

He grunted, tightening his hold on the syringe in his hands and glancing towards the parents that stood a few feet away, whispering among themselves.

Arizona cleared her throat and stood up straighter. “Page Shepherd, tell him to run some tests.” Walking away with Alex still on her tail, she murmurs to herself, “gosh, I’ll never understand how parents deal with sick kids.”

“Um, you’re a pediatric surgeon.”

Her hands still in her pockets, Arizona spun around at her office door. “Yes, but being the doctor of a kid and being the parent of a kid is different.”

They stared at each other for a short moment, not used to getting this personal, until Arizona briskly turned around. “Let’s get those X-rays for Haley”

…

“He was such a great young man,” Betty sighed, propped up by a couple of pillows and wearing a faraway look. “I was his wife’s roommate, her-her best friend. I was supposed to be her maid of honour, to stand up at their wedding.”

Callie sat by her bedside, flipping idly through her charts and listening intently.

“But how do I tell her, ‘I couldn’t stand up at your wedding because I fell in love with your fiancé?’” The old woman sighed again, a sad little smile perpetually stuck on her face as she talked about her old lover and the young and crazy life she once led. “It was a party. The sky was so clear. And I was outside when I saw him coming outside to look at the stars. There were so many stars, dear, way more then what you children see these days…”

Callie urged her on, intrigued. “And then?”

“It just…happened.” Betty shook her head, looking a bit shy. “I felt terrible. And it was wonderful. He…was my first.”

“Wow.”

“Indeed, dear. He wanted to tell Irene, I was sure of it, he wanted to call off the engagement. Would’ve been a terrible scandal,” she chuckled. “But I left. I went to grad school across the country and he…he married Irene.” Betty shrugged. “As life goes. You rarely end up with the love of your life.”

“Love of your life?” Callie asked, “Wow. That’s a, uh, that’s a big statement.”

“It is. But I told myself that there would be plenty of other Henry’s in my life.”

“And?” Callie held her breath, not knowing what to think, “Were there?”

She smiled. “My husband was a good man. But he was no Henry.”

Callie’s shoulders slumped.

Betty smiled. “There was never another Henry.”

…

The machine beeped, scans emerging on the screens in front of the three doctors. Derek sat up to the computers.

“There’s nothing in the frontal lobe.”

Arizona leaned closer too. “Or the temporal parietal region. Occipital lobe clean too.”

“Crap.”

“Told you,” she shrugged, “Crazy.”

Derek was already starting to stand up, dusting off his already perfect lab coat. “Well, we tried, Karev. All the tests are negative. Let’s inform the parents and turf her up to psych-”

“No,” Alex said a bit too loudly, shooting up, “Look, this isn’t right. I _know_ crazy. I-I grew up with crazy. I dated crazy. And I don’t think this girl is crazy.”

Arizona raised an eyebrow, glancing towards Derek who looked mildly irritated.

“Look,” he said, lowering his voice, “Just give me some time.”

“She’s suicidal, Alex.” Arizona couldn’t shake off the parent’s panicked expressions from her own mind. She couldn’t get how parents could deal with possibilities of kids turning out like this and still have children. “What you did in the ER, it saved her life but her parents have been through hell.”

Derek exchanged another look with Arizona. The residents nowadays were growing wilder and wilder. Finally, he pursed his lips and waved a hand. “You have until I finish my paperwork of the day. Four hours.”

He pointed towards Alex. “Go dig.”

…

Richard had allowed Henry to be wheeled into Betty’s room after his surgery, and now Callie had worn the same little smile as she listened to them catch up while hooking up fluids.

That was, until, she heard Henry asking her patient to move in with him. She looked up in surprise, and Lexie, who had been scribbling in the chart, met her with an equally stunned look.

“We-We barely know each other.”

He gave a low chuckle, still a bit hoarse from the surgery. “Oh, we know each other.”

Betty shook her head, but her smile only grew wider.

“We missed our chance once, Betty,” he continued, “I’d hate to make the same mistake again.”

…

“Sound or pressure induced vertigo…” Alex whispered under his breath. Lexipedia came into use at the best of times. And the test he had run was positive.

Arizona almost snickered behind him at the way he was almost skipping back to the patient’s room.

“It’s called superior canal dehiscence syndrome,” Derek told the parents with his usual confident demeanor, but he looked a little empty behind the eyes. Arizona supposed it was everything that was going on with Grey and him. She decided she would ask Callie later.

“It’s means that there’s a small hole in her inner ears that are extra sensitive to sound, “Alex said, after looking to Arizona for reassurance. “It’s rare, and extremely hard to diagnose. The condition wasn’t even written up until nineteen-ninety-eight.”

The parents stared, wide-eyed at him.

“The noise, all that fuss, it was because Haley could hear everything going on inside her body, and every sound outside was magnified.” Alex allowed a small proud smile to take over his usually hard features. “She’s not schizophrenic.”

A muffled thanks barely made it out of the mother’s mouth before the father pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, choked laughter escaping from their embrace. 

Arizona gave Alex a smile and turned her gaze back to the parents.

Almost as soon as they started hugging, they ended, and they moved in union towards their daughter, into the room. 

Outside of the glass doors, Arizona saw them lower their voices and talk to Haley with grins so wide it was surely going to split their faces in half.

They looked so happy, and Arizona couldn’t help her smile from growing wider either.

…

The day came and then went away quickly, as days tended to do. They were getting overloads of surgery and Meredith was going batshit crazy with the amount of work Derek had, tending to recovering doctors over at Seattle Pres and now a fake-schizophrenic kid.

From what Callie had understood from her rambles to her and Cristina, she hadn’t led a proper conversation with Derek for two weeks.

Callie dragged her feet out of the on-call room. Forcing herself to get out of that bed and fling back into work was always especially hard right after a day off.

It was the bed’s fault. That bed looked beautiful.

Beautiful…endearing…adorable…and warm…

Callie shook her head and made a beeline for the coffee cart.

Next week’s salary looked pretty adorable too.

Sighing, she squinted against the bright sunlight bouncing off the glass of the catwalk and chatted with the girl behind the counter.

Callie squinted harder. Around the other side of the coffee cart, Derek Shepherd looked equally tired. He definitely did not have his usually overly arrogant grin or his supposedly dreamy look. 

He looked… _dreary_.

McDreary, Callie thought to herself, and almost chuckled. She would’ve, if she wasn’t mourning over that warm adorable bed that she had left behind.

Thinking about the drunk Meredith she had to peel off of her floor last week, she paid for her coffee, and strolled towards him. Getting closer, she noticed a strand of hair sticking out on the side of his head and almost gasped.

His hair wasn’t even disgustingly perfect.

It must be really bad.

“Hey, Derek.”

He looked up from staring soullessly at his black coffee and managed to nod his head in greeting. They were friends, just not as close as Callie and Mark, or Callie and Cristina. But they were friends. They went out for drinks and Callie insulted his hair and he kept being his over-confident, arrogant self.

They were friends.

“So…”

Derek shook his head, his eyes drooping. “Everything is a mess. The trial’s the FDA’s business now. And I can’t bring myself to look her in the eye.”

“Derek…” Callie sighed. “You guys are like, the great love story of this hospital. You…”

He sighed again. “I-I know. I’m just…I’m just so _mad_ at her.”

“So you’re giving it time?”

“I know I’m not straying anywhere away from her,” he said, still staring at his coffee with droopy tired eyes, “But yes. I’m giving it time. We’ve spent so long running in circles around each other. I love her. I just can’t yet accept the fact that she did this to me.”

Callie nodded, sipping her coffee. “Mhm.”

“Is she doing okay?”

“Ah well,” Callie shrugged, “she says she is. Cristina and her are joined at the hip as emotional support.”

“Do you believe her? That she’s okay?”

“No. Not really.”

Derek brought his free hand up and rubbed his eyes. “Okay. Yeah. I…I need to go and build a dream house in woods and think about this.”

Callie frowned, not quite understanding what this all had to do with a house. “Ah-sure.” She squeezed his arm quickly. “You just…you don’t want fifty years of your life pass by and realise that you let the love of your life get away, okay?”

“I know, I know, Callie, I know,” he muttered, “And you? How about you?”

…

Two weeks later, on a day off for the both of them, they sat on Callie’s apartment’s staircase, Arizona was the only person she didn’t get tired of.

Arizona propped herself up with her elbow on the stair behind them and gazed off into space. This moment felt so casually beautiful, even if the stairs were dirty and the way they sat hurt their backs.

This was becoming a cult-like ritual, silent days and short conversations at Callie’s apartment.

She sighed and it was as if it was the first time she had breathed for years. It was a painfully sunny day, and she hated those painfully sunny days.

But when she sighed, she knew that she didn’t hate these painfully sunny days just because they were so painfully cheery.

Callie hated painfully sunny days because she rarely had anyone beside her when the sky was so clear and happy and all-around cheery.

When Arizona was beside her, spinning a cigarette around her thumb but not lighting it, it wasn’t so painfully sunny anymore.

It was…adequately clear.

They didn’t talk much, they left each other to do their own thing.

Arizona had told her about the girl Alex had diagnosed two weeks ago with a pride she would never admit to, and Callie told her about Henry and Betty, about how stupid they were to let each other go in the first place.

And then they quieted down again and settled into a comfortable silence.

Callie had brought her old journal out for the first time in months and she felt comfortable writing in it with Arizona by her side.

_May 11, 2013. Adequately clear._

She peaked from the corner of her eye when Arizona fumbled at her cigarette and caught it at the last minute before it fell down the flight of stairs. They eyes met over the stair they were sitting on, and Arizona smiled sheepishly, shrugging.

Callie grinned back and then lowered her head to keep writing.

_The beauty in spilt blood and bruised knuckles are ~~all bullshit~~ lies. _

_The tales that poets and writers tell are never completely accurate. They lie to make sucky things pretty. No one comes to save people when their planes crash on the way to Boise and no one picks up the pieces of you after you’ve broken up with a boyfriend. No light comes into your life to love you when you’re crying in bed, alone and silent._

_Broken is not beauty. Broken is a lot of things, but it is never a way of being beautiful._

_The bad things make for good diary entries, but they never make for good lives._

_So from now on, you and I, we’re going to write a story that romanticizes the right things._

_We are not going to spill our love onto someone wrong just because it will make an interesting plotline. We are not going to get drunk and sleep with hot people just because that’s what they do in movies. We are going to write about friends and kindness and picking up litter. We are going to write about reading novels and learning the history of the ground we stand on._

_I’m sitting here with Arizona._

_Arizona ~~feels like~~ ~~a love letter the world forgot to write for me~~ is a terribly good friend. She is the gentlest and kindest anyone has ever been to me. _

_This is a weird new feeling._

_But it’s a good weird._


	10. RATIONALITY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy saint valentine's! i'm currently getting this chapter up instead of sleeping so that's very cool!

_MAY 12, 2013_

_..._

So indeed, it was weird.

Callie was always the impulsive and reckless lover, jumping into relationships and giving them her all. These days, she was letting Arizona become a name that filled her diary but never came out from her mouth.

And Arizona, well, Arizona was the woman people met for a one-night stand, caught feelings for, and got ghosted by. It wasn’t that she didn’t date, and it certainly wasn’t that she never wanted relationships. She just found short and sweet encounters more fun.

They were getting by, just a bit weirdly.

…

Arizona spent the night at Callie’s, so it meant that Arizona didn’t really sleep well, as she always didn’t when she spent the night at Callie’s. There was no way to lay beside Callie and know that she’ll stay on her side of the bed.

Breakfast was a bit unfortunate because apparently, Cristina had finished all the cereal and only left a half-finished bottle of tequila in the fridge as the only means of nourishment.

Callie finished her poorly made coffee as Arizona peered over her magazine. Arizona stared at Callie and felt severely disappointed in herself when she found Callie with light milk broth on the corner of her mouth so awfully attractive.

“I’ve gotta hurry to the hospital,” Callie said sadly, snapping Arizona out of her daze.

“Well, wait for a bit, I can drive you.”

“No, no, you don’t have to. It’s intern exam day and there’s gonna be no interns to bully, I’ve gotta go in early anyway.” She got up, bringing her bowl to the sink. “You don’t have to go in until nine, don’t bother driving me.”

“Leave it there, I’ll wash it later,” Arizona replied, nodding to the bowl.

“Yeah. Anyway, no use torturing the both of us going in this early,” Callie grumbled, releasing her hair from the horrible bun they were in. “Look at you, you’ve got black circles.”

“Wow, real nice, Callie,” Arizona huffed.

Callie laughed. “Sorry, my bad, I’ll rephrase that.” She cleared her throat. “Look at you, you’ve got sexy black circles that make you look hot!”

Arizona huffed again, mock glaring back. Black circles were the shadows left by yesterday’s rushing thoughts about the person grinning right back at her.

“Fine, whatever. Anything interesting in your thing?”

“My thing?”

Callie rolled her eyes, smiling at Arizona’s teasingly innocent face. “Your _magazine_.”

“I don’t know…they say that a new kind of surgical…robot might be invented?” Arizona squinted at the small, neat, print and frowned. “Weird.”

“Should we worry about getting kicked out of the hospital five years later by a bunch of weird Baymax’s?”

“Baymax is nice,” Arizona retorted, “He wouldn’t kick us out. He’s so nice and huggable. I would know from all the times you skipped my very mature movie-recommendations just to watch that again.”

She flung the letter-covered papers back onto her kitchen counter, heading to the door and Callie gathered her stuff around the room with a small smile.

“It’ll never be better than us though, I don’t think we should worry,” Arizona continued rambling to herself, “Surgery is not only a technical thing, you know. We soak up experience and we move around intestines and we know how much blood to transfuse because we learn through more then mere techniques.” Callie didn’t answer, and instead walked behind Arizona, crossing the soft beige-colored carpet with a happy smile plastered on her face as Arizona went on and on.

Handing Callie her jacket, she also whipped a granola bar off the counter and stuffed it into Callie’s hands, saying ‘ _for the road, because I know you didn’t eat breakfast, you never do’_.

Arizona frowned to herself, ushering Callie. “But I do admit that that technology is flying forward so fast these days, god, I feel old just thinking about it.” She poked her tongue into her cheek. “Am I old? I probably am. You’re still young. You’re almost three years younger. You’re a fetus.”

Callie was about to protest, but Arizona glared at her as she was talking, nodding to the granola bar into her hands. She turned around, moving out of the way so that she could walk out the front door.

Arizona muttered to herself as she brushed a speck of dust from Callie’s jumper, still going on and on about whether or not she should start getting those anti-ageing creams.

Not quite hearing Callie, Arizona finally looked up. “Oh, you’ve been my friend long enough to not judge my stupid talking-to-myself-ness.”

Callie had gathered her light jacket in the crook of her arm and she grinned at Arizona. “Yup. You’re a disaster. But you’re my disaster.” She grinned as she stepped past the door and waved to Arizona. “Bye, love you!”

…

Arizona was always a person who acted in rationality.

Arizona was always a person who believed in science and cold hard facts.

Arizona was always a person who acted rationally, with the one exception of a Calliope Torres.

Calliope Torres made her want things that were completely crazy and irrational and _unscientific_. Calliope Torres made her want fairy tales and happily ever afters and parallel universes.

Arizona was always a person who needed science and cold hard facts on her side before believing something, and only Calliope Torres made her wish for everything else that was nonsensical and absolutely romantic.

…

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, Teddy?”

Teddy grits her teeth and tried her hardest not to take her friend by the shoulders and shake her violently. “It probably means what you think it means.”

Arizona groaned, almost slamming her chart down on the counter. “I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean! She just says ‘love you’ so normally and goes away so happily!”

Noticing the two nurses that were startled by her slamming of the chart, Arizona quickly switched on her work-face and smiled politely at them. “Sorry guys, rough morning.”

The nurses nodded and smiled back, going back to tap-tap-tapping away on their keyboards. Teddy, as always, was silently amazed by Arizona’s ability to turn on her sweet and pleasant work attitude whenever, wherever.

“You know,” she said as they turned too, walking towards the next round of patient rooms, “You of all people should be a pro at this stuff, shouldn’t you?”

Arizona raised her eyebrows.

“Really, Arizona? What about the bucketsful of nurses you screwed before Callie?”

“No, _hey_ , that was…”

Teddy brushed her off. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, don’t worry, it’s not like I’m gonna scold you. I just,” she gathered her thoughts for half a second, “you should be the best at deciphering the crap that goes on inside woman’s heads, right?”

Arizona scowled. “Callie’s weird. A good weird. But she’s weird. I can’t see through every single thing she does like I usually can.”

“Mhm.”

“Still, she can’t just come and say ‘love you’ like that leave me!”

“Friends say that all the time, Arizona.”

“But not friends who really, really, _really_ enjoyed fucking each other a couple years ago.”

They kept wandering down the pediatric wards and towards the cardiothoracic wing. “Friends say they love each other all the time,” Teddy said, “Look at Grey and Yang. They don’t do the touchy stuff either but they act more like a couple then Derek and Grey these days.”

“Yang and Grey screws boys like whores on tequila.”

“That was _so_ not my point. But yeah, they do.”

Arizona sighed. “I know. She makes me a better person.”

“Cheesy. Also, sounds an awful lot like love.”

Arizona whipped her head around to Teddy it cracked a little. It wasn’t like Teddy didn’t know. But they just weren’t the kind of friends who talked about sentimental crap. This was the first time Arizona heard the statement coming out of anyone’s mouth, and it was almost disturbing.

Teddy just chuckled. “Please. I know you, Robbins.”

“And?”

“You never touch her or look at her. You stopped boasting about your nocturnal activities three years ago, back when you screwed her.”

Arizona pursed her lips. “I’m grown. Everyone does that in the equally tragic way.”

“That’s true.”

Still walking straight ahead in a brisk pace, they glanced at each other from the corners of their eyes almost uncomfortably. It wasn’t until Arizona nearly ran over an intern that Teddy cleared her throat and pulled her to the side, just around a corner.

“Okay,” Teddy cleared her throat again, a little awkwardly. “You and me, we don’t do the talking thing. We have girls’ nights where we watch horror movies. You were raised in a military family and I served in the army. We don’t do emotional talking about all the feelings stuff.” She made a face. “Feelings are sticky and unpleasant.”

Arizona nodded furiously. “Wear the heelies to escape the feelies. Exactly.”

Teddy stared at her. “Uh sure.”

“There should be some kind of handbook for this, don’t you think? We learn everything in rationality in med school and we’re just all arrogant know-it-alls cutting into people.” Arizona paused for a moment, thinking. “Like, ‘ _A Guide to The Convoluted and Torturous Art That Is Dating_ ’.”

“For dummies.”

“Exactly.”

Teddy shook her head slightly, gathering back her more serious thoughts. “Uh, anyway. From my very expert experience with men and that one time in grade school that a girl kissed me on the cheek, I’ll tell you this. You are, what people more commonly call, a player. You fuck girls and then you dismiss them over text or something. You protect yourself over anyone else, and I respect you for it.”

Arizona shrugged and motioned for her to continue.

“Callie is a whirlwind of emotion. She loves everything so intensely and freely and you can see it on her face the exact moment when she knows clearly just exactly what she wants. She decided on ortho in her intern year, for god’s sake, right away.”

“Okay,” Arizona muttered, “okay. And what’s your amazing professional conclusion, Doctor Altman?”

Teddy rolled her eyes, pinching Arizona on the arm. “I mean, it’s the exact opposite this time. You’ve fallen so stupid hard and you didn’t even jump on her with all of that. Look at you…you’re being selfless for once. You’re letting her do her thing while you stand behind her, prepared to catch her if she falls. And Callie? She’s letting herself sink into the bog of Arizona Robbins so slowly she doesn’t even realise it’s happening until it’s happening. She usually loves so hard it knocks the wind right out of you.”

Arizona nodded.

Teddy nodded too. “So you’re just exactly what the other needs.”

Arizona prepared herself to go in deeper in these kinds of heart-to-heart friend-talks that she so rarely engaged in when a drop of water hit her square on the nose. Scrunching her nose, she scowled. “What was _that_?”

…

People shouldn’t so easily spit out the word love and people shouldn’t so easily decide to give up.

Arizona used to be able handle her fair share of relationships, not a _relationship_ relationship, but more of one of those “limited time” relationships. They were common through everyone anyway, it lasted for a handful of days, maybe a week, maybe a month, but no longer. “Limited time” relationships popped up as often as new technology.

She used to be able to end one and start another right away. It was fine, she knew that it wasn’t called maturely letting go, it probably just meant that she never liked them enough.

She marched through the hallways trying to look for Richard because she still had her doubts about Hunt being interim chief, and wiped another droplet of water that fell on her cheek.

Being able to keep on seeing the lovable side of someone was so rare and hard to do.

…

“Robbins, huh?”

Callie lifted her head to glance at Mark before going back to her chart. “What about Arizona?”

“She’s hot.”

“Well, unfortunately, she doesn’t swing your way.”

Mark choked on the water that was half way down his throat. “N-Not what I meant. I’ve got Lexie. Blondie is nice, but definitely not my type.”

“I thought your type _was_ hot blondes.”

“Not after I met Lexie.”

Callie lifted her head from her chart again, looking wide-eyed at Mark having almost a dreamy look on his face.

He sighed. “After Lexie, my type _is_ Lexie.”

“Wow. You’re whipped. If every ceiling of the hospital wasn’t leaking right about now, I would make fun of you.”

“I know,” he replied, “And how are you and Robbins?”

Callie stared at his again. “Shouldn’t attendings be really busy with surgeries?”

Mark grinned cockily. “Lexie and I just saved a man from having headaches for the rest of his life. So no, I have nothing right now.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “You hardly ever don’t know exactly what you want. So, again, how are you and Robbins?”

“We’re good as ever, and if you don’t stop with that gossipy look, she’s soon going to replace you as my best friend,” Callie retorted.

Before Mark could wipe the indignant look off of his face, Owen came skidding to a stop beside them, slightly red in the face and a pile of charts in his hands.

“Um.” Callie looked up at him from her rolling chair. “Owen, you alright?”

“Look, the hospital’s flooding and well, the CT machines are on the ritz—”

Callie and Mark both simultaneously raised their eyebrows. “Wow,” Callie said, “that bad?”

“—yeah—post-op and pre-op patients are backed up for days, I _gotta_ get a handle on this thing before the patients find out about just how bad it is and our ranking drops even further.” He took a deep inspiration, having all rushed that out in one breath. “Please, Torres?”

Seeing Callie having an internal debate, Mark cut in. “Where are all the other residents?”

“Grey is still in a slump over that Alzheimer’s trial even that she’s back, everyone is pissed at Karev with no reason, and Cristina, uh,” Owen scratched his head, “she was pissed at me for bringing up the kids thing again.”

Callie blinked, glancing down at the thick stack of papers she was alright breaking her precious hands over. She lifted her head at Owen’s panicky expression and groaned, holding out her hand.

The man sighed with relief and plopped the charts into her hands. “Thanks so much, Callie, I owe you one,” he rushed out before rushing off again, hands stuffed nervously into his pockets.

Callie groaned to herself, flopping forward and dropping her forehead at the growing stack of things waiting for her do.

Mark shook his head. “Big softie. I have no idea how interns are scared you when you’re legitimately the one resident that takes everything.”

“I’m not a softie, Mark. I’m badass,” Callie snapped, still burying herself into the papers. “Are you gonna help?”

For once, he looked actually very apologetic. “I’m sorry, Cal. I’ve got three butt-lifts in a row until noon.”

“You just said you had nothing to do!”

He winced. “Yeah…I said that because I wanted to keep on annoying you with Robbins.” Already standing up and fumbling with his pager, he suddenly perked up a little as he mentioned Arizona. “You’ve got to stand up and take the blame for what your own dumb little feelings want, Cal.”

Callie scowled as she didn’t understand crap of what he just said, but Mark was already sauntering away. “I hate you!”

He turned his head around waving and blowing her a kiss that she jokingly gagged to. “You love me!”

…

Callie half-stumbled into the cafeteria, spotting Cristina and Meredith sitting together at a table and half-stumbled that way instead. Flopping down on the chair, she dropped her head on the table, her cheek squished but she couldn’t less.

“How are you enjoying this glorious day without the annoying interns?” Cristina asked, looking almost close to perky.

“Horribly.”

Cristina stared at her like she just grew two heads.

“The interim chief aka your boyfriend gave her five hundred years worth of pre-ops and post-ops to do,” Meredith said, forking up a leaf of her salad and bringing it down to Callie’s mouth. “Eat this, its brainfood.”

Callie opened her mouth mechanically and chomped.

With a slight scuffling and a short curse, Alex also plopped down beside them. “My dude with the aneurysm? Slipped in water, smacked his head and got stuck in the CT machine.”

Callie’s head shot up. “Owen was talking about _your_ guy when he said the CT machines were on a ritz?” She gritted her teeth and grabbed a grape from Cristina’s tray.

“Hey! My grape!”

Callie flicked the grape onto Alex’s forehead. Hard. “I’m stuck with charts for the rest of the day! The only day when interns aren’t around!”

“It’s not that bad,” Cristina drawled, “We have to run all the basic labs ourselves when interns aren’t around.”

“Oh yeah, so extremely painful,” Alex replied sarcastically, “Miss-Future-Harper-Avery-Winner has to run labs. Scandalous.”

Cristina shrugged. “Say what you want Evil Spawn. I’m winning a Harper Avery.”

He rolled his eyes so hard Callie was almost sure they got stuck at the back of his head for a moment.

Cristina picked up the grape that had hit Alex’s head despite Callie and Meredith’s protests and stuck it in her mouth. “I heard Little Grey’s guy has been living with pain at a constant eight for the past seven years because of an inflamed nerve in his nose. It’s crazy.”

“I wish _I_ had an inflamed nerve in my nose,” Callie groaned.

“Geez.”

“Anyway, I gotta go again. Interminable charts and everything,” she said as she plucked Alex’s muffin and pushed away from the table.

Alex looked down at his tray after Callie marched out of the cafeteria. “Dude. Did she just steal my muffin?”

Cristina rolled her eyes. “Stevens can always make you another couple thousand.”

…

Callie stayed slumped against the cool elevator wall when it dinged and opened the doors to the only thing that had made her manage half a smile since coming into the hospital.

Arizona stepped in, grinning at her and patting her encouragingly on the back. “Hey. I heard about your painful charts. I have,” she looked down at her watch, “five hours before little Wallace. I’ll help.”

Callie almost burst out crying as she threw herself onto Arizona in a crazy big hug. She didn’t see Arizona’s ears turning violently red uncharacteristically and Arizona patting her awkwardly on the back.

However, Callie’s relieved smile turned into a glare when Mark sauntered his way into the elevator and saw them hugging. She glared harder when he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Breaking away from Arizona, she leaned forward and slapped him on the arm. “That’s for this morning.”

“Ow!” He rubbed at his arm as he pressed third floor. “I was just about to offer to help you with your Owen-induced charts!”

“A bit too late,” Callie mumbled.

“And I’ve already offered,” Arizona said proudly, moving in between them.

Mark scoffed. “Cal, you’d rather Blondie help you then your _best friend_?”

“Can I throw him out of the elevator?”

“Callie likes me more,” Mark protested. Turning to Callie, he said, “Cal, you love me.”

Arizona crossed her arms challengingly. “I have legible handwriting and I offered to help first.”

“I am eye-candy!”

Arizona huffed and turned to Callie. “Calliope, who would you prefer? Actual help or man-whore syphilis from the nurses?”

“I mean I’d appreciate both your help.”

With an instant smile towards Callie and a glare towards each other, Arizona and Mark nodded furiously.

Callie laughed as the elevator doors opened again. “You two are s— _oh my god WATER?!_ ”

A ridiculously wave of water rushed into the elevator, the force of it knocking them back a step. The water soaked their shoes as they just stared at the hallways in front of them, mouths open and frozen in place.

“Out, out, out!” Mark finally said, an arm on the women’s backs and gently but firmly pushing them out before anything else happened to the elevator.

…

“Post-ops to rooms twenty-four-sixteen, pre-ops to rooms twenty-two-thirty-three, four and five,” Owen barked at the nurses pushing the gurney as he ran a hand roughly his already tousled hair. “The overflow goes into the clinic!”

Seeing Arizona, Callie and Mark scurrying by, pant legs wet and confused expression on their faces, he squeezed out a smile. “I’ve got everything under control here! Thanks for your help, Torres!”

Mark managed to give him an unsure thumbs up before Bailey stormed into the hallway with a murderous expression on her face. The three of them gulped at the same time and continued on their way to find clean scrubs. And away from Bailey. With that murderous look.

Finally, clean and dry half an hour later, Callie and Arizona dropped onto the. The dreadful pile of charts still laid on the coffee table in front of them.

They stared at it.

Mark crossed the room, balancing three cups of coffee, putting them down beside the charts and sitting down on the office chair.

He rubbed his hands.

“So,” he said, a strained smile on his usually handsome face, “to work, then?”

…

“I want to set this on fire,” Arizona mumbled.

Callie chuckled humourlessly. “I can bring marshmallows for when we all go up in flames.”

Mark opened his mouth to try say something positive, but closed it with a groan. “We’re halfway through, ladies.”

They didn’t bother to reply as Callie drained Mark’s last bit of coffee while Arizona did a weird stretch with her hand, trying to get some feeling back into it.

A loud buzz rang through the lounge. Looking down, Mark grimaced. “Mine. Sorry guys.” Getting up, he saluted them. “Good luck.”

He was met with Callie burying her head on Arizona’s shoulder and Arizona waving him off tiredly.

Not three seconds after he left, Derek burst into the lounge. “There, you are, Torres!”

Not lifting her head from where it was buried in Arizona’s hair (it smelled good), she grunted.

Not seemed to be dampened by Callie’s sour mood, he went on. “I got a girl who fell off a tree and broke about fifteen limbs. I was looking for you, wanna scrub in?”

Callie’s head shot up. “ _Fifteen_ limbs?”

He nodded.

“From a _tree_?”

He nodded.

“I can scrub in?” she squeaked.

He nodded again.

Turning her head to Arizona with her mouth half open, she blinked rapidly.

Arizona smiled tiredly. “It’s fine, I can take care of the rest of the charts.”

Callie’s eyes widened even further. But she took another look at the crinkles at the corners of Arizona’s eyes and turned back apologetically to Derek. “I…I can’t today, Doctor Shepherd, I’m sorry.”

He frowned. “You’re sure.”

Callie stole a look at Arizona again. “Yeah. I’m sure. Go look for Meredith. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to do the surgery with you. And,” she smiled the best she could with her tired mind, “you can talk to her in the mean time and try to sort things out.”

He nodded. “Okay then. Goodnight, Torres.” He nodded to Arizona. “Robbins.” And he left, closing the door gently behind.

Arizona half-expected Callie to look irritated, or at the very least, disappointed when she turned back around, so she quickened to say something before that. “You know you can go, right, Calliope? I can do these for you. We’re,” she swallowed, “friends. Things kinda suck, but I hope you know that you’re pretty much the only thing I like more than surgery and caffeine.”

And that was probably the closest she reckoned she’d ever get to being honest to Callie about all these feelings.

But Callie cocked her head to one side and smiled at her. A light one, not a forced one or even a slightly disappointed one.

Callie looked although she was so full of light happiness that her grin had no other choice but to form. She looked so genuinely happy that Arizona just had to smile back softly.

“It’s okay, Arizona.”

Arizona nodded, looking back to the chart in her hands. “Let’s get back to work then. Maybe we can finished early enough to get some good take-out on the way home.”

When she got no reply, she raised her head to see Callie still staring at her with an almost puzzled look. Frowning, Arizona’s brought her hand up to her forehead, thinking maybe her cold respited with the workload.

But out of the blue, Callie suddenly broke into a huge grin.

A kind of smile that looked although she’d just found all the answers to life, a light chuckle escaping her lips in a tinkle, her eyes sparkling.

Arizona looked at her and she looked so happy that Arizona smiled too.

And then, just as out of the blue as Callie grinned, she leaned forward and kissed Arizona.

So gently and lightly while neither of them moved. Callie’s hands were quivering, softly caging the sides of her face as her lashes tickled Arizona’s skin.

When Callie pulled away, they both had a pink tint on their cheeks and a faraway look in their eyes. Callie looked like she couldn’t quite catch her breath, still wearing a stupid big smile. Her eyes shone as she rocked back and forth with that purest grin.

And Arizona almost pulled her in for another kiss. But Callie looked so strangely proud of herself to have kissed her that she didn’t even dare move. She didn’t want to ruin this moment that was so good.

“I’m gonna…” Callie whispered, her voice light and full of out-of-place wonder, “I’m gonna go get more coffee.”

So she got up and walked to the door, Arizona getting up with her and walking by her side even though she had no reason to. The atmosphere still didn’t shift, still light and debilitating in the best way.

Arizona stood in the middle of the doctor’s lounge and tried to remember how to breathe for a good few moments after Callie had left. It was only a good minute later before she could move to lean against the door.

Her hands felt numb and it was almost summer and Callie had just kissed her on the mouth.

Arizona let her forehead drop against her front door.

_What the fuck._


	11. FIVE THIRTY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i write another au (that is more au then this one) will you guys still want to read it?

_“We all have our memories of brilliance and glory, and this was mine.”_

_— Roald Dahl, Boy: Tales of Childhood_

* * *

**_MAY 12, 2013_ **

…

Arizona’s face burned.

Raising her hand to her cheek, she touched the burning spots with the back of her hand. Sighing to herself, as she knew that Arizona Robbins wasn’t ever the type to turn red at these small things as a glance her way or a simple kiss.

How Arizona had changed in the past months. Her change shone harder every time she thought of how Callie’s eyes crinkled just the tiniest bit when she smiled at her.

She pulled on the edge of her scrub top as she rushed out of the door. A thin seam of thread poked out from the end of the blue fabric, and she pulled on it absentmindedly.

She couldn’t fathom much of any logical thought, because they were all looking up towards this suspicious adrenaline knocking against her head. She was out-of-place warm in the overly air-conditioned coolness and the shiny tiled hallways. Her hands were clutched too tight, like she was desperately to keep her hold on some terrible confession, and she tried to unclench them enough to flex her fingers and reach forward to open the swinging doors and the end of the corridor.

Maybe Arizona really had changed. But she knew it was for the better.

…

_APRIL 24, 2009_

_“He didn’t leave. He just walked out of time.”_

_Bullshit._

_That was what Arizona thought as she flicked her lighter._

_Nick was dying in the moldy walls of the very hospital she worked at and Tim was on a plane somewhere, coming back to this horrible mess. She coughed, spitting out the cigarette between her teeth, watching it fall onto the asphalt and crushing it under her heel._

_She clenched her teeth when she patted her pocket and found no cigarettes left._

_Her arms felt dirty on the places where two different girls touched last night. Her hair was greasy from the three days she’d gone without a shower. She knew that she looked halfway dead._

_A thin column of smoke wavered towards to sky somewhere in the distance. She couldn’t make much of anything out from her place sitting on the curb across the hospital._

_If things could really play out the way they did in movies, this would be the perfect time for a pretty woman to come and fall in love with her. She would suddenly brighten everything up and drag her out of this hole she was stuck in._

_This was the perfect time for a fucking fairy-tale-like miracle._

_Such a pity they rarely came to average people like her._

_Her phone buzzed in her pocket._

_She cleared her throat, willing the disgusting smoke to leave, and answered._

_“Timmy?”_

_“Were you smoking again?”_

_Arizona stayed silent for a moment, suddenly pissed. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. The sudden urge to get up and go buy another pack rushed through her._

_“Yes.”_

_She heard him sighing on the other side and her fist hit the asphalt ground hard. The vibration of pain that went up her arm felt better than the voice coming from the other end._

_“Whatever. My plane just landed,” he mumbled, “I’ll probably be there at around seven.”_

_Arizona pushed her tongue against her teeth._

_“I’ll bring donuts.”_

_And as suddenly as her fist hit the ground, a tear rolled down her cheek. She hated everything in that moment._

_She hated the column of smoke that still flew up in the distance, surely a house with happy children still able to run home with dirty hands and bicker over cartoons. She hated how the responsibilities can come crashing onto her, pushing her into the abyss of adulthood without warning._

_She grunted. And then she choked out a ‘thanks, Tim’._

_After the call ended, she still walked two blocks down to buy another pack of cheap cigarettes, but she decided to wait another day until her next conquest in a bar._

_…_

The coffee machines sat neatly on a plastic table in a doctor’s only hallway, and Callie was standing quietly in front of them, holding a paper cup, completely still.

Arizona, just slightly, forgot how to walk when Callie turned around at the sound of footsteps.

Strangely, the first thing that came out of Callie’s mouth was, “Didn’t you have that appy at five?”

Arizona came to a stop beside her, lightly frowning. “It got pushed to tomorrow noon.”

“Oh.” She nodded.

A rare and awkward silence passed between them, staring at each other. Callie still with that confused small smile on her face, and Arizona frowning, a bit too serious.

“Did you mean it?”

Callie blinked.

“When you kissed me,” Arizona added. “I have to know.”

…

_MAY 9, 2009_

_Arizona rubbed the sore spot on her knuckles harshly._

_She stared at the blonde waltzing closer to her._

_She shook her head, walking quickly out of the swinging doors and into the stuffy night air._

_She kicked a pebble on off the curb and looked up at the moon. It was eerily clear._

_What could she do to keep Nick on this side of time?_

_They’d seen scraped knees and first kisses together, him, her, and Tim. They’ve bet on stupid games and copied homework at five in the morning. They taught her how to do shots and she taught them how to talk to girls._

_He hasn’t danced at her wedding yet._

_He could barely feel his legs this morning._

_He called her Phoenix one more time and told a bad and inappropriate knock-knock joke and Arizona didn’t have the heart to tell him that his words were slurring together so much she never understood the punch line._

_The moon shone down on her and the dirty streets._

_Arizona could give him the desperate loneliness of someone gazing at the moon._

_Not much._

_He wasn’t leaving._

_He was walking away from their side of time._

_Arizona went to get a tattoo that night instead of fucking another pretentious girl._

…

Callie raised her eyes to Arizona’s face again, looking at her carefully. Her eyes flickered to the coffee machines for a moment, and then back to Arizona.

“I did. I didn’t even know I did until I done it,” she chuckled, a bit suddenly, still tinkly and full of almost bewildered joy. “I think…I just… _had_ to do it. I was sure that if I didn’t do it then, I wouldn’t ever be able to. I mean, you’re great…and…” she shrugged to herself, “I think I’ve liked you for a very long time without knowing.”

Callie shook her head, lowering her eyes to the floor and then up again. “That’s it. I’m sorry.”

“What? Don’t be sorry.”

…

_AUGUST 8, 2009_

_Callie turned on the air conditioning aggressively._

_She bought all the ice-cream she wasn’t allowed to bring into dorms back in medical school._

_She got watermelons and stored them in the fridge and took them out on hot summer days and ate them by the spoonful._

_She put on flowing sundresses only to buy more carrots in the grocery store, and she stood between the aisles, a little lost and a little lonely._

_It was just like any other summer._

_Better even, she was freed of any form of school, she was freed from dorms, and she loved her dirty little basement._

_A suited man passed by and she wanted to ask for the aisle in which he found serenity._

_A teenager skipped by and she wanted to ask for the display in which she found excitement._

_An old lady passed by and she spilled over her confusion._

_Why, why is it everything just the same as any other summer? But why, why is it that I’m not as happy anymore?_

_The old lady hoisted up her nylon bag and shrugged._

_Because, it probably is that, you’ve grown up._

…

Callie opened her mouth halfway, not quite answering just yet.

Arizona shrugged, finally letting out a small chuckle as well. “So…” she tilted her head a little, “this probably means you’ll agree to a date this weekend?”

“I-” Callie’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline, “You want to?”

“Yes,” Arizona’s words stumbled out of her mouth, a little unbelievingly, although still not sure if this was a dream, “ _Of course_ I like you,” _I love you_ , “awkwardly and stubbornly—” she laughed, “—like I have nothing—yet everything at the same time.”

…

_JULY 12, 2009_

_Arizona hadn’t looked at a girl wrong for weeks._

_The soft voice of a lonely stranger in their motel by the highway still echoed through her mind at the worst moments._

_Calliope._

_Arizona remembered seeing the piece of ID slip out of that hot little clutch right before she ripped her dress off._

_It was a pretty name. Arizona had no idea why she’d rather go with Callie. But to each their own. She got that now more than ever. She’d hate for another pretty stranger to judge her way of dealing with her pain._

_Not that she approved of it much herself._

_She sighed, pulling out her lighter again._

_She hesitated before lighting the cigarette between her teeth._

_It smelled like ash and death._

_She sighed again._

_If a girl could one day pull her out of these self-destructive funks. If only a girl could come like in the movies and make her scratchy personality turn into something more…perky._

_If only a girl, and say, a slightly more specific girl. Like that girl in the motel bedroom, like that one particular Calliope she met weeks ago._

_They would start out as innocent friends. Friends, nothing more, they would shake on it, promise each other with a hidden twinkle in their eyes._

_She would flirt with her when she was drunk. And then she would insist that she wasn’t drunk._

_And when she was sober again, she would tell her in all seriousness that they were honest-to-good god friends, nothing more._

_They would sit too close at tables and have their arms pushed together, the heat burning through their skin. They would do all the things a lover would do, they would take care of each other too closely when they were sick, and they would do stupid things just because the other would smile in return._

_Calliope seemed like a fierce girl._

_A fierce, pure, solidly kind girl._

_Arizona would fall first for once, and she would be so different from how she used to be. It would be her chance to redeem; to be perkier at work and be kinder with life._

_Calliope would fall unconsciously for once, no fiery feelings, but instead a slow and steady sinking._

_Arizona chuckled to herself and lit her cigarette._

_What a shame that they were but strangers._

_She coughed lightly and went back to being just a little disgusted at herself for smoking so much._

_Arizona didn’t think too much of Callie after that._

_Her residents yelled at her for shitty bedside manners and they wouldn’t let her in the peds ward because ‘she wasn’t the peds type’ and that ‘she was too hard and severe’._

_Arizona didn’t really have time to think about anything else, after that._

…

“You just seemed…I don’t know, weird. Back there.”

Arizona laughed again, lighter and lighter this time, no more of the hesitant heaviness that was lingering from before. “I did, I guess, I did. You’re…” she shrugged again, smiling, “You’re too good to be true. And I’ve wanted this for so long. I’m scared shitless to fuck it up now that it’s here.”

“Oh.”

And after a moment, Callie returned Arizona’s smile with an even bigger grin, holding out her hands, dropping the paper cup, letting it float down to the shiny floor. “Look, I have no idea why you want this just as much as I do, but,” she grinned harder when Arizona took her outstretched hands and swung them between them, and she knew pretty much everything about Arizona’s self-destructive decisions and strange inclinations. “I’ll be a hundred-percent into this. I’ll give everything I can. That would probably include my annoying coffee obsessions, and mood swings, and a bad temper—”

Arizona shook her head, smiling, knowing Callie was much more than only that.

“—and a thousand other bad habits, I’m terrible, generally, really,” Callie laughed, “but I have one good thing. And it’s that I like you. A lot. A crazy lot.”

…

_SEPTEMBER 24, 2010_

_When Callie had seen Arizona standing there as Doctor Shepherd presented the residents, she pinched herself really hard. She almost fell flat on her face as the crowed continued forward, if Cristina hadn’t caught her._

_And now, she was splayed on Mark’s couch, a beer bottle in hand and Mark on the carpet with no place else to sit._

_“Why do things like this happen, Mark?”_

_Callie groaned, opening her mouth again. “I even think we would’ve been great friends. She feels like a good enough person,” she muttered, “and god knows that’s hard to find these days.”_

_“You can’t be sure someone is a good person just after one night, Cal. Much less someone who willingly proposes one-nighters.”_

_“You do that.”_

_“And I was just another shitty guy before Addison and you knocked sense into me.”_

_“We were just nice with you for a change.”_

_Mark chuckled. “And that was exactly the change.”_

_Callie groaned again. “Whatever. I can’t think too much. I’m just pissed that a person that could’ve been so great had an amazing night with me and then popped up almost two years later as strangers.”_

_“Mhm,” Mark answered as he stole her beer and took a swig._

_“Why can’t people that work together just stay together, Mark? Why do things have to be such a pain in the ass? Why are they always so shitty?”_

_“That’s not called shitty, Cal, okay? These pain in the ass things are called life. Nothing is forever. Everything goes away sooner or later.”_

_And only a couple months later did Callie really understand what he said._

_This was something she just needed to learn to accept._

_Shitty things happened everywhere. And she had lots of friends, she supposed, and she cared for everyone without caution._

_But she shouldn’t have the extravagant hopes of keeping anyone around for a whole life, because that…that was too hard._

_Some people come only to walk for a short distance. And others came for a long run. She had no right to expect too much out of anyone._

_“I get it now,” she told Mark one morning when he bought her coffee._

_The world was her’s, and shouldn’t lay halfway on the shoulders of someone else. And it was to be that way for everyone._

…

Arizona regarded with an amused look on her face, and Callie winced at her own words.

“I’m awkward,” she mumbled back towards the grinning Arizona, “get over it. Everyone’s awkward as hell at times at this.”

…

_FEBRUARY 3, 2011_

_Callie was resilient and she never made a scene after that first night._

_She was sad when the night fell and she was alone in a big bed, but she worked and she laughed and she chatted with the nurses. She didn't latch onto her phone and try to find out every little thing Arizona was doing and she didn't wail about the dull ache._

_Arizona was in Africa and she was in Seattle._

_Things tended to happen this way._

_Friends came over and they had cheap beer, talking about the last game of hockey or football. she worked overtime and slept in on weekends._

_She washed her socks._

_She ordered take-out._

_Callie was a little hurt, but she was hurting as people always do, silent and unimportant, just going about her days. Callie hurt just a little, and she was slowly moving on too._

_And then by the end of the month, she barely hurt at all._

_And into the shallow end of march, she only thought about Arizona in bars, dancing to a specific song._

_Anyhow, everyone have always had many “friends” that they call “friends” even if they never meet again._

_One day into the starts of spring, a woman came up to her in a bar and offered a one-night stand very straight-forwardly. Callie laughed but declined._

_I’m on a celibacy thing right now, she said, and I’m kind of happy with it._

_The woman raised an eyebrow and ordered them a drink._

_I really used to think that being earnest enough about someone, Callie continued as she drank the burning liquid, I used to think that would move someone, sooner or later._

_I sincerely used to think that caring enough would always lead to a meaningful end._

…

Arizona snickered, “I hope it isn’t just an ‘us’ thing.”

“It’s not just an ‘us’ thing. I’m pretty sure it’s an everyone thing.”

“Well,” Arizona said, swinging an arm over Callie’s shoulder and turning them both back in the direction of all the unfinished charts, “it’s okay if it’s just an ‘us’ thing, because at least you’ve got me.”

…

_NOVEMBER 15, 2011_

_The little boy giggled under Arizona’s cold stethoscope, warming her heart. Africa and being around all these children made her want to be happier. Be less of the unforgiving resident she was._

_To be…perkier, even._

_She laughed too, trying to say something in poorly pronounced Chichewa, making the boy giggle even more._

_And in almost equally bad English, he replied with a proud little shake of his head, “Doctor Robbins, I learned something new this morning.”_

_“Oh really?” Arizona replied, gathering her stethoscope back around her neck._

_“Yes, for real!”_

_She smiled, pulling up a small chair and sitting down by his bed. “Tell me about it, then.”_

_“I met a girl in the caf-” he grimaced, trying to get the word out, “caf-e-tereeyah. She was very pretty.”_

_“Oh, was she?”_

_He nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you know what it is called,” he said carefully, “the feeling that comes when you think about somebody a lot, lot, lot?”_

_Arizona feigned a very puzzled expression. “Oh, I really don’t know, Davie.”_

_Davie continued proudly, “It’s a feeling with your heart beating so hard, and you think about them until you want to cry. What is that called?” he asked Arizona, “Do you know what it’s called?”_

_“What is it called?”_

_“I know what it is!” he exclaimed happily, “It’s called liking somebody a lot, lot, lot!”_

…

“Oh please, you make us sound so important.”

“Don’t you think we are?”

Callie pulled on a mock serious face, gravely replying, “We’re only but grains of sand in the large scale of the universe. We’re nothing. Bodies aren’t forever. But it’s very cool that we even got to have bodies.”

Arizona rolled her eyes, pulling Callie along. “Yeah, yeah, we’re nothing.” She grinned when Callie grumbled about messing up her hair. “But we are very _great_ nothings.”


End file.
